


You burn me.

by TheBabydoll



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Dom/sub, Narcissism, Past Abuse, Pre-Knives Out (2019), Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, Ransom Drysdale's Sweater, Smut, chris evans - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25981846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBabydoll/pseuds/TheBabydoll
Summary: After a series of service workers quits at The Thrombey mansion, Harlan Thrombey decides to hire your to pick up the slack. You quickly find out why this eccentric has a hard time keeping help around the house.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale & Original Female Character(s), Ransom Drysdale & You, Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Comments: 40
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just saw Knives-Out and now here we are. Pre-knives out fic. Kudos and comments welcomed and appreciated.

It wasn't supposed to come down to this; a friend pulling favors to get you a job so you wouldn't have to all out starve while your restaurant closed down until further notice. And now here you were on the porch of The Thrombey's massive country mansion. According to Marta due to the hostility of the environment it had apparently become difficult for the family to find what they would call "good help" as Linda Drysdale would so eloquently put it. Your dear friend Marta had pulled some strings to get you this interview with Harlan Thrombey, the famous, and lucrative crime novelist. Something of a legend that lined your bookshelves and inspired you to go into writing, needless to say you were very much a fan. The job called for minor care taking, cooking and cleaning; basically picking up the slack that had been left when a series of house workers had abruptly quit. One. By. One. Taking in the interior of the house when you were let in by one of the few helpers that stayed;Fran you couldn't imagine one task given to you that you would say no to, let a lone a reason to full on quit. 

Shifting in the large comfy arm chair as you waited for Mr. Thrombey to make an entrance, you quickly removed your resume from your burgundy satchel, thumbing through it and going over practice questions in your head. "Yes, I can work weekends and nights..." you mumbled quietly to yourself as you played out the interview in your head; knowing this was indeed a huge opportunity and not wanting to tarnish Marta's reputation as she did take a chance on you. You heard a slight creak coming from the doorway as the elderly monarch that was Harlan Thrombey walked his way into your view and sat across in the arm chair across from you, and with a slight grown allowed himself to get comfortable. He was an elegant man, dressed in the finest threads, a simple button up collared white shirt donned with a tailored vest and pressed slacks. Simple, yet chic.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting my dear, tending to family matters as always.." showing his palms, he gestures his hands before settling down in his seat. " Would you like anything to drink? Water? Tea? Fran makes a fabulous cup of Earl grey." his voice was warm, frayed with age. "I'm fine, thank you Mr. Thrombey and thank you again for meeting with me." you try to keep your voice from getting too loud from nervousness. "Please! Call me Harlan!" he laughs, waving his hands. "So tell me about yourself Miss..." "Y/N,L/N" you filled in the blanks, placing your hand out to shake his. "It is an honor and a privilege to meet you sir, so happy to have the opportunity." He takes your hand and shakes it with a firm but gentle grip before releasing it so you can place it back on your lap as you returned to your seat. The interview proceeded and felt more like two old friends catching up at lunch. Of course you went over experience, details of what your job would require, hourly pay, how often you'd be cooking, special dietary measures, how often you'd have to tighty up in between the cleaning ladies visits, but the conversation would always drift off into personal interests and before you knew it hours had passed and the day had turned to dawn. You two had loved the same books, the same classical music as well as having an affinity for new knowledge. Being an English major, you discussed new stories that had appeared in your head, the latest crime novel that was selling off the shelves and then you finally got to family; both his and yours "You see, my entire family comes and goes as they please, occupying the house whenever they see fit; it can be a easily become inordinate at times." Harlan informs you, breaking eye contact and preferring to look to the side of you. What wasn't he telling you? You having no immedietly family to turn to weren't quite familiar with the closeness they shared as he went on explaining. 

"They can be a wild bunch, with a lot of. . . vigor, coming in and out whenever they please, and everyone has a room here, including you." your face lit up at the end of that sentence. "If you'll have us." he finished looking you square in the eye.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You didn't want to surrender your apartment in the beginning but seeing as Harlan's requirements for you became more and more demanding of your time, you had spent a majority of your time at the Thrombey mansion that finally Harlan insisted that you move into the room he gave you which was sadly twice the size of your shoe box abode. So far you had met Walt Thrombey, Harlan's youngest son. His stature was that of a defeated man, his body language was timid and he often walked accompanied with a cane . He was in charge of Harlan's publishing and had been pawing at him to get Harlan to surrender his rights to film one of his books. You understood why Harlan absolutely refused; having seen how many tarnished films the industry had put out often obliterated any sort of artistic integrity the author originally had. He also did not want to be poked and prodded at all hours of the day asking for his input on an adaption he had absolutely no desire to create in the first place. Walt's teenage son Jacob on the other hand was a walking hemorrhoid, he never ate what you cooked so you substituted by filling the fridge with coca cola and letting the alt right troll ordering whatever he wanted on food apps, not that he ate much whenever he came over. You grew familiar with the top of his head, how often he kept it glued to the glowing screen of his cellphone clogging internet airways with half truths he'd find on Reddit threads. How the little creep was conceived looked to be nothing short of miracle, seeing his mother; Donna Thrombey was an absolute shell of woman. The slightest creak or knock throughout the house sent her nerves to shreds and she was always easily physically shaken.

You met Linda the first day you were hired. She was inspiring, and admittedly intimidating. A self made woman, and she found every opportunity to let you know it. You loved her sense of fashion and flamboyance but you did everything in your power to avoid her when she was on a tirade. The dogs absolutely loved her and a soft spot in your heart grew when you caught her calling the German shepherds her "puppies" despite them being massive beasts that often cuddled up to you on your breaks. Her husband on the other hand; Richard you didn't trust as far you could throw. He often would send back his lunch untouched, demanding something different from the others, if not for it to be remade. You had no clue where he got the self entitlement from seeing as he hadn't seemed to have made any sort of accomplishment outside of his marriage. He seemed spineless and always ready to agree to his wife's whims. You knew he was keeping something from her. And then there was Joni Thrombey; widow to Harlan's middle child Neil and mother to Meg; who was an absolute delight and had smoked you out on more than one occasion. Joni was a supposed "influencer" meaning she took pictures all day of herself doing yoga poses, selling candles that smelled like edamame for 60.00 online and bragging about how Ayahuasca 'changed her life'. She often talked to you like she was trying to sell you something, or recite a three stanza poem she had found on Pinterest hoping to enlighten you with her faux wisdom. These instances usually lead to you shrugging her off. Your only complaint was her specific and ever changing diet that went on through out the week. First she's vegan, then it's keto, then its a fast, then its a cleanse. You'd finally came to the realization it would be easier to have prepped meals on demand for her when it came to her visits. Her daughter Meg had few traits of her mother. She was super sweet, genuine typical teenager that had welcomed you with open arms. Both of you college students; she became more of a little sister, often sharing late nights studying. The demand for her higher paying education meant her diet consisted of coffee, and quick, on-the-go snacks. She'd grown to ask for your advice when it came to her essays and papers.

Great Nana Thrombey always seemed to have her foot half in and half out of this world. She would mumble little nothings to herself and her vision was completely shot but you found her endearing none the less. You thought her magnifying seeing glasses made her resemble more of an owl than a person, and she was typically so quiet that her family didn't often notice she was in the room. Though you didn't chat her ear off or establish any sort of friendship with her, no matter what you served her, she always cleaned her plate. As tiny as she was, you knew grandma could put it away. 

Yes, three weeks into living in the Thrombey country house had seemed to be more like being a part of a family than anything. You would often catch yourself wondering why it was so difficult for them to keep service workers and would wonder what the catch was. . . . until tonight. 

Meg passed a grueling exam had cause for celebration; a luxurious dinner at one of the finest restaurants. Harlan had all but begged you to join them since the entire family had for once agreed on the same place, on Harlan's dime of course. You gracefully declined, explaining to your employer that adjusting to the move as well as the job had robbed you of any time to unpack or arrange your room. You also had yet to start a paper that demanded more attention than you were willing to admit.

About an hour and a half past and having made a significant mark in your paper, you'd taken the liberty to put in your headphones and dance around your room as you started to unpack your boxes. Cleaning your room and gyrating just went hand in hand for you. Getting busy sorting out books before placing them on the shelves, donning little trinkets here and there on the bare spaces that were given to you. You were finally able to arrange your desk just the way you liked it, made your bed with the sheets tucked into the right corners and organized your closet. Having found your groove, your room was coming along nicely. You stood in the middle of it to admire your work the baby hairs on the back of your head stood up and you realized. . . . you were being watched. 

Assuming you were being paranoid, you were startled to see the figure of a large man leaning to one side of your bedroom doorway. His hands occupied by a bag of potato chips that he casually kept popping into his mouth one by one as he looked you up and down. You jumped, yanking out a headphone and bringing both hands to the front of your chest as if to shield yourself. "WA-ha! WHAT THE FUCK!?" the violent jump causing your bun that you had originally put your hair in to loosen , springing curls that framed your face. He was beautiful. Strong jaw line, piercing blue eyes and dirty blond hair. His broad shoulders wrapped in a cable knit sweater, draped with a cashmere coat. He did little to hide the way he looked at you up and down, like a predator ready to pounce. "Well nice to meet you too" he finally speaks. His tone incredibly sarcastic.

"Who the hell are you?!" you finally spat, anger and sheer embarrassment tinting your cheeks a deep pink. How long was he standing there? Had he seen you cleaning? Had he heard you singing? HAD HE SEEN THE YOUR ABHORRENT ATTEMPT TO MAKE YOUR BUTT CLAP?! You physically cringed at the thought. "Oh-ho Kitten's got claws" he teases, causing your to further shrink into yourself, you crossed your arms over your torso before asking again. " I'm sorry, you just startled me" you explained, hoping some of the heat will leave your face before extending your hand to the beautiful boy in front of you. Part of you was hoping he wouldn't take it, knowing you had built up a sweat moving furniture and cleaning." I'm Y/N, I'm the new-" "Caretaker" he finishes your sentence before grabbing your hand in his massive one and giving a firm grip but no shake. He holds you there for a moment that is longer than the norm, making you physically nervous as he looked you straight in the eye " Call me Ransom." Ransom? Ransom Drysdale? As in Hugh Ransom Drysdale? Linda's son? You connected the lines as he released your hand. Your nervousness wasn't lost on him and you fidgeted under his rock solid stare.

"Well I uh, was just fixing up my room." you responded, gesturing to your living spaces and taking the opportunity to look around the room as a means to avoid eye contact under his blatant staring. He didn't even try to hide it. The smug look on his face made you feel completely uneasy, and he had an air of confidence about him that just didn't sit right with you. "That's not all you've been doing" he smirks nodding his head before turning to look at your room. If there was a God, you wished he would take you now. You covered your face with your hands before shrugging. "Look.. is there something I can help you with?" you let out a frustrated sigh, letting your hands fall to your legs, hitting your exposed thighs. 

Ransom waltz's over to your record player you had assembled on your desk, casually placing his potato chips onto it before picking up a vinyl cover, and looking it over "I don't know sweetness can you?" he asks, not looking back at you. "You're family is out to celebrate with Meg" you explained, crossing your arms, and shifting your weight of your hips. "Ah yes, graduating with a degree in being an SJW" he answers, now strumming his fingers along the books you had placed on your shelves as he strolled across the room encircling you. You felt vulnerable with your back towards him and the sensation was heightened when he pressed his index finger along the tender flesh of your exposed bicep as he continued to walk around his room. "What are you doing?" you asked, eyebrows shot up as you turned around to face him. "Nothing, just glad to see my grandpa finally hiring some better looking help." you shrugged off the backhanded compliment and pushed his hand away with a huff and stormed out of your room not really sure where you were going. As you walked down the hallway the pounding of your bare heels hitting the hardwood floors echoed down the corridors, and you could hear the thundering steps of Ransoms loafers as he followed suit. "WHAT do you WANT?!" you asked physically annoyed, putting your hands up as you continued down the stairs." Just wondering if the family is out, why are you YOU here?" he asks, swinging an arm around you and placing it on the doorway to the living room, encasing you with the other when you tried to return back up the staircase. "I fucking live here ok?OKAY??" you yelled in his face, looking him dead in the eye. He doesn't even flinch, the ends of his lips curled into a perfect smirk that you had to fight every urge not to smack off his beautiful face.

You noticed him eyeing your features, taking each one in at a time. Ransom watched the expression on your face change as his eyes wondered over your face. Staring at your hairline, where baby hairs had clung to your forehead, down to your brows, your eyes, your nose. He wondered what your lips would taste like when chewed them. You were irritated by the pulling in your lower stomach. This shouldn't be as exciting as it, a man invading your personal space, following you, borderline chasing you down, poking and prodding you. You finally willed yourself to press your hands against his chest, only to be met with wall of muscle beneath his cord stitched sweater. You could feel your fingers curling against the fabric your body wanting to instinctively pull him closer, before finally willing you to give a slight shove which really only further pushed you into the wall; Ransom was standing as if he had roots buried deep beneath the floorboards. There was no moving him.

"So where you going in such a hurry?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. "I was going to get something to drink" you answered, before finally dipping below his large arms and making a quick way to the kitchen. "Work up a thirst shaking your ass?" he asked following you, his town downright satrical. 'God, take me now' you thought, with your shoulders physically cringing. "THA'THAT WAS A PRIVATE MOMENT!" you yelled, your face completely enveloped in a bright shade of pink. Ransom chuckles as he makes his way to the fridge and removes a seltzer water "I'd like to see more of those." he answers without missing a beat. Taking the bottle and handing it to you, before getting himself a drink and leaning on the granite island in the middle of the kitchen. 

You were physically nervous, fidgeting the water bottle in your hands as you slouched on the kitchen counter. Had you not just entered the kitchen you would’ve easily dipped back into your room, however Ransom had already driven you out of your nest. “So how long you been working here Y/N? I haven’t seen you around before.” He asks, taking another sip of his water. “I started at the beginning of the month, Harlan wanted me to help pick up the slack... before I knew it I was spending more and more time here. Harlan finally insisted I move in.” Why were you answering his questions? This punk literally just chased you out of your room after insulting you. “Glad to hear you’ll be around. I do prefer a later night, night cap.” He quipped, approaching the side of you with a smirk and a raise brow. Cocky son-of-a-bitch. He lowers his head so he’s looking down at you directly in the eye. The pull in your lower stomach returned and your pulse quickened “ So I’d stay on your toes if I were you, never know when I might come a-knockin’ “he says in a hushed tone, his face near inches from yours. Your lips parted, and with that soft flushed expression, Ransom knew he had you. 

“RANSOM!!” You hear a loud voice yell from the kitchen doorway. Harlan standing with a doggy bag in one hand, his other on the door frame. You immediately jumped as if you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t. “Hey gramps, how was the dinner?” Harlan looked the two of you over before placing his brown bag on the counter. “Had you come, you would know.” The older monarch snapped and you couldn’t help but smile. “Y/N I brought you some take out, why don’t you take it in your room?” The suggestion sounded more like a concerned demand as Harlan looked you and Ransom once over. “Ransom, I’ll meet you in my study.” Taking your food in hand along with your water bottle, you turned to return to your quarters only to be stopped when Ransom extended his arm and wrapped his fingers around your forearm to turn your attention back on him. " Goodnight Y/N, looking forward to seeing more of you." a slight wink at the end of his sentence sent your heart a flutter before he disappeared into the study with Harlan.


	2. Say yes to me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting closer to the spooky season. We delve deeper into our reader's past, and Ransoms impulses.

You shouldn't have been surprised to find that Harlan was an absolute Halloween fanatic but this was ridiculous. "Harlan it's barely going to be October!" you inisited, draping fake spiderwebs on the foyer. "My dear when you get to be my age, the first sign of fall is when the spirits become more lively; its in the air you see and isn't that enough of a cause for celebration?" He laughed. You were preparing for a Halloween party that Harlan had insisted on. "The family has their own lives, own schedules, getting them to agree to be under one house is nothing short of a miracle." he'd explained, as he sat at the dining room table, scooping the guts of a pumpkin out and onto the newspaper you'd set up to avoid mess. 

Black chambersticks donned with white candles through out the house gave it a soft romantic glow. Pumpkins you'd spent the previous evening carving with Fran and Marta had been placed on the porch and lined the entry way. The night was finally upon you, everything was set and you were busy putting on your costume and getting ready in your room.

This was heavier makeup than you'd like to admit, glitter specked cheeks under full false eyelashes, pink plushed lips and blush stained cheeks. Your costume was an angel, a short white dress and detachable wings with white chucks. Cute, simple but still obvious and you were able to still work around the kitchen and maneuver around the house.

You took account of every decoration, every plate, and every dish to be served. Harlan sat up on the porch, greeting family as they came in and as you saw Linda and Richard make their entrance and their way to the dining room a question popped through your mind; would Ransom be here? You exhaled seeing no one follow behind them and started graciously serving dishes onto the table for them to grab their helpings. Linda's garb was that of an aristocrat, she dawned a suit similar to what she'd normally wear but donned with frilled cuffs, and shirt that spilled out of her blazer, as well as a cane. Very stylish. Richard came with no costume; shocker. Meg finally arrived dressed in box. No a literal box. She was a rubix cube with black jeans. Nana Thrombey donned her usual attire, accompanied by a masquerade mask, and Harlan finally put on his costume; devil horns with a velvet smoker jacket. Joni was dressed as a hippy; shocker. She wore jean bell bottoms, rimmed glasses, a white tank top with a suede fringe jacket that cost more than your entire outfit. Finally Walt and Donna dressed as a couple costume; a plug and a fork, the humor was lost on you. 

You felt a tad overwhelmed watching the family indulge and dip their hands in each and every one of your dishes, standing in the background to allow them to enjoy themselves. Meg came to your side, plate of appetizers in hand "It can be a little loud around here, once you get us all under one roof but I'm sure you're used to it; your family must get so excited when you cook for them on the Holidays." she asks, popping a pop corn shrimp in her mouth and waiting for your response. " My family doesn't really get together anymore." you answered, stirring your wine glass and avoiding her gaze. It was true. You were raised by a mother and father, who to put it nicely really should have had no business reproducing. "Oh.." Meg answers looking to the side of you, before looking you in the eye. "Do you.. not want to talk about it?" her tone sincere, and comforting. You smiled at her to ease the tension and laugh "My father dipped before I was born, and my mother . . . was something else." you laugh. True your mother had given birth to you, but she hadn't raised you. You'd gotten used to living in other people's homes, not knowing where you were going to sleep at night because she decided to spend rent money on her many vices. You found it simple to merely allow the relationship to dissolve and avoid all contact with her. Meg placed a hand on your shoulder as means to comfort you, feeling as though she had crossed a line, her eyes lit with concern. Fran walked past with a pitcher of punch to place on the dining room table before Meg extended her hand to stop her in her tracks before gesturing for the older female to come closer. "Hey Fran, do you still have your stash?" Fran eagerly nodded accompanied by a smile before signalling for the two of you to follow her into the study. \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Removing a stray joint from the antique clocked kept on top of the fireplace of the study Fran handed it to you as Meg propped open a window. As you stuck your head out the window, and lighting the jazz cigarette you saw the flashing of headlights belonging to a BMW pulling into the massive driveway. Taking a drag and holding it in before speaking " I thought everyone was here already." you say with an exhale before passing the joint to Meg. "Ransom just likes to make an entrance, I'm surprised he showed up at all." Meg says, leaning against the windowsill and rolling her eyes. "RANSOM?!" You jump at the name causing both Fran and Meg to look at you with tilted brows. "I-I just-it's just-Yeah you're right I didn't think he was coming." you say in a dreadful attempt to cover up your excitement. Fran takes a hit from her joint before passing it back to you, and clapping her hands together as if it'd cover the smell. " That asshole's probably going to ask to be spoon fed." she states, brows turned down in clear irritation. 'Is he really that horrendous?' you thought to yourself. "Trust fund baby probably doesn't know how to wipe his own ass I bet." Meg states in agreement and the two of them share a laugh. Fran quickly grabs a can of air freshener she had hidden behind a large book before blasting herself with it, giving Meg a spritz and offering you the canister. You shake your head no, and quickly take another drag before tossing the bud out the window. "Back to work!" Fran states as she opens the door to the study, you and Meg following behind.

The Thrombey family was placed all through out the house, the dining room, living room, front porch and before long, Harlan called for everyone to join around the large dining room table to partake in the feast you'd assembled. You're head was spinning and you were praying to the universe, hoping to take your food in the kitchen with Fran and Marta, however Harlan insisted you take a seat beside him and enjoy the fruits of your labor. Despite your insistence that you were totally fine even taking your food to your room, before you knew it you were losing the argument and sitting across from Linda Thrombey which was nerve racking enough. What made your pulse quicken was recognizing the smell of cedar wood and sea salt that came behind you; Ransom pulled up the seat next you. God he looked just as good before. No costume of course, a simple white thermal and Levi's were today's uniform. "Well isn't this special??" he asks loudly so the whole table could hear him and it takes everything in you not to cover your face in your hands. You were completely stoned attempting to keep yourself grounded as you felt your body full on flush. Ransom smiles, he could already feel the reaction he's getting out of you and extending his hand to take yours from your side, he brings your knuckles to your lips and briefly pauses before kissing them. "Y/N nice to see you again."

You look him once over before returning your hand to your side of the table, "Ransom..." you respond, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. 

"Y/N made everything you see here tonight, please help yourselves!" Harlan explains, extending a hand to the feast placed a-top of the table before the family began to dig in. You sat twiddling your thumbs watching everyone dip their hands into dishes, hoping everyone would serve themselves before you'd help yourself but before you knew it, Ransom had your plate in his hands and leaned over the table "I'm assuming a little of everything?" he doesn't give you room to answer before serving you a little of column a, column b and placing your dish in front of you. The munchies set in, and your eyes were glazed over, it became obvious to him that you were baked. Serving his own plate, the rest of the family partook in their usual banter and the roaring of the conversation, made it seem more like white noise than an argument. Harlan was busy being chatted up by Linda on her newest career endeavors, completely enveloping all of his attention meanwhile Richard and Meg were at each other's throats on a political debate with Joni chiming in and Donna meekly attempting to state her point. "You been dipping into the audio?" Ransom asks in a tone quiet enough for just you to hear, not turning his attention to you as he began eating. It was blatantly obvious to anyone paying actual attention to you that you were slacked, not only that but the smell had remained on your fingertips. "And what of it?" you answered, taking a bite out of a dinner roll. "Nothing, I just didn't know you partook." Ransom laughs at the end of his sentence. "I think we could use a bottle of wine here, Franny?!" he yells and Fran, like magic appears with a fine bottle of Cabernet. You'd admire how quickly she unraveled and corked it before serving Ransom with a grim look on her face before placing the bottle in front of you. "Thanks Fran." Ransoms tone completely glib. He uncorked the bottle and served you in the wine glass in front of you before corking the bottle again and placing it in the middle of the table. You gave him a questionable look, why was he being so nice to you when he had a clear detest for the help. 

Taking your glass in hand, he did the same and gave you a small nod before clinking his wine glass against yours before you both took a sip. "I must say, that garb is adorable, nice stems." he complimented you without turning his head away from the table to actual look at you. "You don't even know what I am." you pointed out, not knowing he'd been stealing glances of you since he walked up to the front porch and saw you through the stain glassed window. "Oh, I KNOW what you are angel." his wit was as quick as ever and he took another sip of his wine. You could feel the heat of his other hand underneath the table, fingers gliding against the exposed skin of your leg. You jumped, grabbing the edge of the table but stayed sitting. Harlan turned, giving you a concerned look. "You alright Y/N?" Harlan asks, his hand being held by Linda as she too glances over to you. "Absolutely fine! I just, I may need more wine." you joke, taking an exaggerated sip of your libation. The two elders laugh as you gesture them to continue their conversation. 

Ransom smiles, looking on at his family sitting across from him. They were absolutely clueless to the activity going on beneath the table. His palm spread across your thigh, grabbing it gently. Your eyes widen and you try to steady your breathing as you feel a pool of desire gather in between your thighs. Why were you allowing this? The rough exterior of his open palm spread on your thigh causing goosebumps to raise for him to feel under his hand. You physically shutter and when his hands drift up toward your mid-section you nearly drop your silverware. Ransom above the surface of the table was conducting a smooth conversation (on his end at least) while giving Meg a run for her money in an argument over "ethical" spending. You couldn't hear Meg's end but you could tell by the volume of her voice and her turned down brows that she was obviously irked. Attempting to keep a cool, calm demeanor you kept eating the food you were served, giving quick glances around the table wondering and hoping no one noticed that you were perspiring. 

The tip of Ransom's thumb breached the edges of your underwear, and panic took over. You quickly stood up causing the heavy chair behind you to fall backwards with a thud calling all attention to you. "Y/N! You alright?!" Harlan asks, Linda giving you a concerned look and extending a hand, afraid you'd topple over. "YesYESYES! FINE!I'm fine! dandy, I just think I left a window open! If you'll excuse me!" and you explained picking up the chair, clearing your plate and abruptly leaving. "It's a big house. . . " Linda commented as you left the table. Ransom had that devilish grin on his face, nodding in agreement before taking another sip of wine.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night carried on without further hitch, you spent it going room to room making sure everyone was comfortable and clearing the table as the family slowly started to trickle out and return to their homes. You hadn't ran into Ransom since him and Harlan had disappeared to the patio to talk. As the night drifted off into the later hours, you'd finished cleaning and putting plates away. Marta and Fran had been long gone before the clock struck midnight and you found yourself in Harlan's study. You couldn't explain the comfort your felt being surrounded by walls lined with books. You extended your index finger and stroked the spines of each and everyone before stopping upon finding a small pocket book with golden lettering on its title. ' Indian Love Poems. ' Harlan, you romantic. Pulling the book from its place carefully, you took it and sat at the desk in the middle of the room.

Placing the book on the desk, you thumbed through the pages before stopping on a poem. 

'Even in a reeling world  
as great as this,  
teeming with thousands of gorgeous women,  
nothing at all compares to her right half  
save for her left

How can you describe her? When your gaze falls on one of her parts,  
like a sick cow fallen in mud  
it cannot escape.'

you smiled continuing to read, finding the poems taking different tones the further you read through the book. The first few lightly, flirty and coquettish. Others of professed, undying love. You giggle as you start delving into the deeper depths of your literature, only interrupted when you hear a telling creak coming from the doorway. Ransom stood, wine and glass in hand. "I thought you left with the rest of them." You spoke, returning your eyes to your book. Your pulse immedietly picked up bass as he approached the desk "And I thought you didn't like me." he answered. Always so quick witted, and for once you returned his smirk before removing yourself from the chair and picking up the pocket book you were reading. "I don't." you teased. He went around the desk and now leaning over you, he extends his pointer finger towards your face, brushing it against your nose. "You like me angel, maybe a little too much?" he asks "your cocky." you jab at him. "You like me so much I bet it hurts." liquid courage was an under statement, Ransom had sheer liquid arrogance. He took your former seat, placing the wine and glasses on the desk in front of you. He sat spreading his legs wide with you standing in between his knees. "What'dya' got there angel?" he asks looking at the small pink book in your hands. You hand it over looking down at him. Before you knew what you were asking the words escaped you. "Wanna read to me?" you asked in a mocking, higher pitched tone. 

You turned your back, only to look over your shoulder when you heard the flipping of the pages and was surprised to find Ransom actively looking for a poem before deciding on one and beginning to recite it. 

"She's in the house.  
She's at turn after turn."  
Ransom stops very briefly to wrap his free hand around your upper thigh underneath your costume and you jump in surprise, but he holds you there. 

"She's behind me.  
She's in front of me." 

He releases his grip on the back of your thigh and brings it higher so his massive hand is wrapped around your waist and with the smallest of effort, eases you in his massive lap with your back was pressed against his chest and your head resting in the crook of his neck. The length of his legs preventing your feet from touching the ground. He pauses to look at you, search your face for any hesitation, discomfort or fear and when he found your face completely flushed and eyes wide with wonder he continued reading. 

"She's in my bed.  
She's on path after path,  
and I'm weak from want of her." 

His arm extends from your waist, pressed between the valley of your breasts and his hands settle around your throat and you swallow hard. 

"O heart,  
there is no reality for me  
other than she, she,  
she, she, she, she  
in the whole of the reeling world." 

He grabs your chin so your forced to look at him. Your pupils completely blown and he could see you physically sweating.

"And philosophers talk about Oneness." 

The lids of your eyes are heavy and you lean in, hoping to meet his lips halfway in a kiss but you audibly gasped when he lifted you and placed you on his kneecaps before and spreading them, leaving you feeling completely exposed. "Ransom! What are you-" "Shhhhh, read to me." he commands, returning the book to your hands. You were shaking with anticipation, nervous to see what he'd do next as he placed one hand on the front of your stomach to support you, and the other hand on your exposed inner thigh. "C'mon angel, read to me." he asks again, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. You nod and stop on a poem 

"V'very beautiful twelve years ago, now even  
more so, fighting your demons in the dark-" you're cut off as Ransom's gives the tender flesh of your inner thigh a light slap, causing the skin to turn a beautiful coral pink. You gasped as he continued giving you light slaps before comforting the distressed skin with the light brushes of his finger tips before they began creeping up your thigh, tugging lightly again on the lacy edges of your underwear. You couldn't help but blush as your physical excitement began to seep through your panties. He places soft kisses on your neck and ear, giving it a soft nibble. "Keep going." he whispers, his voice audibly heavy with desire. All you could do was give him a weak nod before returning your attention to the print.

"you, delicate person, dusk on your eyelids,  
breasts full at nightfall, ask questions still which I cannot answer, and I never could," Ransom's other hand palms your clothed breasts, a slight grunt as he shifts his weight to adjust his tightening pants. 

"th-though I am he who watched your miracle A HA-!"  
His fingers breach your underwear and cups your sex completely flooding the spaces between his fingers with your desire, you begin to physically shake and your teeth begin to chatter. "My my. . ." Ransom comments at the state of your drooling pussy, feeling a small pool of grow slicker on his invading digits. His piercing blue eyes stare at you when you look back to meet his gaze; his fingers continuing to explore your sex. "keep going. . . " the end of his sentence trailing off. "This is what I meant when I talked of love.. Oh" Ransom takes the liberty of stroking your clit with his thumb, playing you like an instrument and drinking in your small noises, pauses, and moans like wine. If you were to look at him directly in the face you would easily see that he to was readily coming undone. You had one small hand to hold the book and the other to hold his arm, he smiles into a kiss he places where your shoulder and your neck meet. You can feel your pulse growing faster in your lower stomach. You want more. You want him closer. 

"Your body smells of honey from the comb, Your amber, silken skin smells of your mind, an orchard full of ripe fruit, fallen flowers,

v

your breath becomes ragged and your grip on his arm tightens. You were subconsciously rubbing against his palm, trying to get more friction out of him. Ransom catched your drift and a large finger breaches your inner walls and you let out another moan as it's joined by another. Feeling the stretch you can't help but whip your head back so it's leaning on Ransoms broad shoulders, your knees spread across Ransom's open lap, your drenched sex out on full display for whoever were to walk in. "Tsk tsk, finish what you started angel." You couldn't see him but Ransom was hanging by a thread, you could feel his growing member pressing against your backside. "herbs of different kinds; some of them heal the illnesses we have: some don't: I've spent hours in it, and watched you leave your face, and often wondered where it was you went." Ransom continues dipping his digits in and out of your cunt, finding the spongie surface of your G spot on the tip of his middle finger, he smiled with glee and quickening his pace and you can physically hear him panting followed by low growls saturated with lust. He was living for your strained expression, as your tiny hand held onto his forearm as a pillar of safety as his motions rocked your very being. The buoy in the storm that was brewing inside you, approaching its blissful peak. Feeling your form physically tremble in his grip, Ransom presses a kiss on the side of your head, not stopping his motions. "I've got you, I've got you, now finish it." he demands pressing a firm finger on your G spot, circling quick and harsh circles on your engorged clit.

"haaa..." you were drooling, trying to compose yourself before finally swallowing your saliva. 

"Tho-those with no better to do, in the suburbs,  
discuss how between us we defied my death-" you weren't going to make it, you could feel yourself tightening, Ransom feeling your build up and clamping around his digits. "Ransom-Ransom I'm-I can't." your eyes tearing at the overwhelming sensation building from your core and raising up to your chest causing your nipples to pucker and beads of sweat to form on your forehead. Your mascara starting to run down your face. You were a mess, and Ransom had to fight himself from throwing you on the desk and taking you there. 'Later, that'll be later,' he thinks to himself, grasping at the strings of his sanity. "Finish it." he says, the commanding tone in his voice making you whine. 

"Fill me with the scent of your skin and your  
sad, confused dreams and sweet breath.  
Make-make me whole with the half I do not have  
of myself, which is you; heal me with herbs.  
This is what I mean whEN I TALK OF LOVE! HA-AHH-" 

your orgasm was caught in Ransom's hand, drenching his entire palm. He caught your mouth in his hand, keeping your moan stifled as he continued gripping your sex and working you through your peak. Pressing your smaller form against his massive one, you could feel his erection strained against his denim jeans, pressed against the curve of your ass. Tiny spasms encouraging his continued assault until you went limp. Completely spent. Had it not been for him literally physically supporting you, you would've been splayed out onto the rug that laid on top of the hard wood floor. One hand still wrapped around your waist, he withdrew the other from your underwear and held it in front of you in full view before spreading his fingers to show you the web of juices that had strung between his digits. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't drifting in and out of sleep. Picking you up effortlessly, Ransom proceeded to carry you to your room, placing you on your bed. 

He used your restroom, adjusted his erection in his pants before returning to you. He un clipped your costume wings that now had the wiring bent out of shape, and removed your shoes. Before tucking you in, he'd gave you one look over before quick thinking and lifting your dress and removing your soiled underwear, tucking them into the back pocket of his Levi's. 

Placing a kiss on your forehead and tucking you in before finally turning off your light and closing your door, Ransom went down the hallways a way to his room Harlan kept for him. He smiled, standing on the other side of his door knowing he'd been right. You totally liked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this was pure filth. Anyways, comments and kudos appreciated. 
> 
> Book mentioned is ' Everyman's Library pocket poets; Indian Love Poems. ' none of the poems are mine, nor do I claim them to be.
> 
> also I did not proof read so. . .


	3. Say yes to heaven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reality of what you did seeps in the next morning, and Ransom's reservations dissipate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> absolute filth

Having been so sure you had your alarm set to the morning, you were getting a suspicious amount of sleep. You're eyes slowly opened to the dim blue light that was the early morning, and upon your alarm on your phone finally going off you sprang so you were now sitting up on your bed. The pounding of the previous nights libations made the back of your eyes radiate with pain. Why did you decide to get cross faded was anybody's guess. 

You let out a belch that'd been stuck in your throat and caused the taste of wine to burn up against your esophagus. It was then the nights previous festivities flooded your memory like an angry wave. Ransom. The weed. The poetry. The orgasm. Where were your underwear?

You smacked your forehead on your palm. Shame, arousal, embarrassment, all feelings that came to the surface and you looked around the room as if searching for a solution to how you were to conduct yourself the rest of the day. Removing yourself from your bed in order to start your day, you staggered a little on your way to your bathroom to shower. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd prepared and served Harlan his breakfast, cleaned up whatever aftermath was left from the previous nights party, threw up twice, swept and mopped the kitchen and dining room, almost fell asleep while trying to eat your own lunch, threw up again in the rose bushes and were now organizing the cereal by sugar content, and it was only 12 in the afternoon. "Are you alright my dear?" Harlan asked, finding you sitting on top of on of the kitchen counters with multiple cereals removed from the cabinet. 

"Y-yeah! Harlan I'm fine, just ya'know. Idle hands are the devil's play ground." you announced, tipping the box of cereal at him. "Indeed" he commented, leaving you to your vices. In truth you were trying to busy your mind from thinking of Ransom. Oh.. but that conniving bastard had found his way under your skin. Hearing the creaking steps echo down the corridor of the house, you leaned over curious as to who it was. Had Marta come early? You could've sworn today was Fran's day off. Still sitting on the counter your questions were answered when Ransom walked in, in a bathrobe and boxers. "Oh Jesus- Get out!" you yelled. He smiled the same shit eating grin he always had, as he ran his fingers through his damp hair. "And here I was wondering what I'd eat for breakfast."

The vulgarity of the statement wasn't wasted on you and you quickly removed yourself from the counter space and on the opposite side of the kitchen as Ransom made his way to the fridge, removing a seltzer water from the door. You scratched your head, tilting it to the side. "About last night. . . bits and pieces are still foggy." Ransom smirks before taking a sip of his water. "I could remind you if you'd like" he snaps, turning his head so he's looking at you. "It was a mistake." you state flatly. "I can't be messing around with my employer, especially one whose been so good to me-" "Is that what you'd call it?' Messing around' " Ransom announces using air quotes with his fingertips before he squares his shoulders and progresses towards you. Your frame slowly taking steps backwards as he advances. "Y-yes!" you try to sound the a tad more confident in your answer though your voice shows meekness. Ransom tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes as if he were savoring a memory, replaying it like a clip in his head "I seem to recall you grinding your sweet little ass against me, holding onto me for dear life. . ." his pitch lower almost predatory. "while your tight little pussy was convulsing in the palm of my hand." he lowers his gaze so he's looking you square in the eye. You felt the familiar pressure in your lower stomach. "And if I recall before that, while I was trying to play with you earlier you didn't stop me. You could've yelled, made a scene-" a slight pang of shame came through you and caught itself in your gullet. You swallowed hard, before putting a foot forward in an attempt to take up space. "YES BUT" "You could've told Harlan too, you still could, now why don't you?"

His body language almost mocking yours as he leans forward so he is now at the same eye level as you, hands on his hips with his robe sprung open, so you can see his perfect physic. You keep your eyes from wondering, attempting to meet his rock solid gaze. 'You don't scare me Ransom Drysdale. I am NOT leaving this job." you say through gritted teeth, your physically straining to keep your wondering eyes from all out ogling the Adonis of a man in front of you. He leans further into your personal space, so close that you can smell the mint from his tooth paste as he speaks. "Wouldn't dream of it sweetheart."

The rest of your day went off without another run in, for the most part you'd finished your house work and were able to hide in your room and finish up some classwork that should've been done a week ago, tidy up your room and even get in a few pages of a book you'd bought before your move. Towards the early evening Marta and her sister had invited you out to see a late night viewing of a 2 dollar movie. You eagerly agreed, looking for an excuse to get out of the house you readily decided that after your constant regurgitation, the hangover sweats, and the day's work had left you in dire need of a shower. Setting an alarm on your phone, undressed and readily stepped into the shower taking a deep inhale as the hot water kissed your skin. Taking your time, working your fingers through your hair and massaging the lavender scented shampoo through your scalp. Your thoughts drew upon what you'd wear, if you wanted popcorn, Ransom, what shoes you'd wear-hold up. Ransom? Ransom. Ransom. Ransom. Every thought you had, every question coming through your mind kept leading to that ignorant 6 ft beautiful bastard. All roads lead to him. You nicked your ankle with your shaving razor when you heard a soft knock on the door. "Marta?" you asked, peeping your head out the fish pattern shower curtain. "Marta is that you?" you ask, loud enough so she could hear you on the other end. Another knock followed. "Marta, I'm almost out!" You'd had asked her to come get you if you suddenly became pressed for time. 

Finishing shaving your other leg, you hear the slow click of the lock on your bathroom door and the creak of the antique door followed as it slowly opened and then abruptly shut with another click. The shift in the air caught your attention as you felt your backside get cold as you faced the shower head, your eyes closed as you turned to yell "Marta! I said I'm almost out!" you wiped the access hot water peeping your head out the shower once again to find Ransom standing outside of your shower, jeans partially down and he was relieving himself in your toilet. "Son of a bitch." you mumbled. "God I know that's true." Ransom knocked his head back, finishing up, but not buckling his pants as he flushed the toilet. He began washing his hands as you grabbed the towel hanging by the shower and wrapping it around yourself before stepping out. "You have your own bathroom!" you stated. "Yeah, but I like the way this one flushes." he finishes washing his hands and wiping them on his jeans. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall as he examines you, combing your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror. "Y'know I have to ask you, where you get your audacity but I'm afraid asking questions about yourself will only make your head bigger." Ransom rises from his slump and places himself directly behind you with both hands en-caging you on the bathroom sink "Me? You haven't asked me to leave yet sweetheart.". His fingers brush against the fibers of your towel and as you turn around to face him, he makes quick work of it, and in a flash its on the floor. "RANSOM!" you yell, your face flushed and you attempt to cover yourself. "Tell me to stop."

He almost dares you, nudging your shoulder and poking your sides, almost as if to bully you. "Tell. me. to. stop." he repeats. You look at him in growing frustration, and the ache in your belly button to your clit returns. The slight pull. "Ransom!" you yell again. "Yes? Tell me to stop! Tell me you don't like me!" he clips your shoulder with his hand again, pushing you further into the sink. Your brows knitted closer together in a frustrated fashion. "Tell me!" he commands. When you finally look up at his towering figure, he sees the same lust filled expression he caught in the library. The same desperate, needy face that appealed when you were riding his knuckles to oblivion. "Tell me to get out." he speaks again, bringing his forehead forward so it's touching yours. You return his gaze again, lips parted and with a quickness your face is in his hands and pulling you into a hungry kiss. Your hands go from covering yourself to gripping the edges of the sink as he lifts you up onto the counter. Ransom smiles into the kiss as he finds his passions returned and you kissing him back. He stands in the area between your legs as he frees his erection from his underwear.

Your naked body sits before him as he makes no effort to cover himself, and instead holds your head in his hands, pressing himself on the inside of your thigh. "Say something.Anything. And I'll leave right now, that'll be the end of it. I won't touch you, talk to you, you can be a normal nobody-worker." He's almost daring you, you can see the threads of his restraint slowly unravel, and a sweat is built up on his forehead, giving him a beautiful glow. You search his eyes, dark and clouded with need. He searches yours attempting to read you. Your shower had left your skin with a beautiful flush and glow, your lids were heavy and before you knew what you were doing, your hands found their way to the bottom corner of his shirt, fist clenching the fabric. Ransom wasted no time, taking the hint and is upon you once again. He chews your lower lip, sucks your little muscle of love, shares your alcoholic saliva from your mouth wash. 

Your breath breaks into a pant, and you hate yourself for giving up the fight as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, his erection brushing against your entrance. Ransom grabs his cock in his hand, rubbing it on your folds feeling how wet you'd become worked up a slick on the tip. He stops kissing you for the slightest moment to watch your face as he inserts inside of you, feeding its massive size into your inner walls, he lets out an audible grown watching your eyes widen as he stretches you, the tip of his cock almost kissing your cervix. "Ha-ahhhh" a low moan makes it way out of your mouth after escaping the chambers of your throat. "Sweet little thing. . . " Ransom moans into your ear, holding you close as he works you in order to allow you to adjust to his size. "Ah-I knew you'd feel like heaven." Slow, dragged out movements, he ruts against you as your small figure holds onto his massive frame. "You feel so fucking good, how did I wait this long?" he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and you quietly shun yourself feeling your inner walls clench as he continues to praise you. Ransom grabs one side of your face, and turning your head so he has access to your neck and he begins kissing your neck and ear. He bites your lobe and picks up the pace. 

The heat from your body creates a steam across the bathroom mirror and your passions become audible, as Ransoms pace becomes almost brutal and the sound of his balls slapping your ass becomes audible. You feel that familiar build up, only this time it's deeper. Radiating up all the way into your stomach, from your belly button down to your clit. There was an abrupt knock on your bathroom door and Ransom freezes his motions, clasping a hand over your mouth to silence your small whimpers "Y/N? Are you getting ready?" It was Marta. Oh no, the movies! Ransom withdrawals his hand, and smirks before gesturing his head to the door, non verbally telling you to answer her. "Y-Yes! I just got out!" An idea pops into Ransom's head and he quickly removes himself from you and you almost whine at the loss. He grabs your hip and quickly flips you so you are now looking at yourself in the mirror, bent over the granite bathroom counter. Marta yells from the other side of the door "Let me know when your ready! We're still undecided, did you want to see a comedy or a horror?" With that, Ransom rams his cock back into you, causing your knees to buckle and you let out a loud moan, which Ransom is too late to catch in his hand as he grasps your mouth in his palm again. Marta knocks again this time with more urgency, "Y/N?! Are you okay?!" the worry in her voice made you feel a slightest pang of guilt. 

"Answer her sweetheart" Ransom whispers into your ear. One hand wrapped around your neck, the other gripping your hips as he leans over you pressing his weight onto your back. "Ye-yeah I'm fine! I had a muscle spasm, gotta work out!" you lie, shifting your head down so you don't see your reflection in the mirror. This doesn't sit well with Ransom, as he grips your chin and pulls your head up so he can return his stare in the mirror. "So do you want to see a scary movie or a comedy? Me and my sister are torn." You can see Ransom's eyes roll in annoyance, and his pace begins to pick up again. "Ah-ha a comedy!" you cover the noises of your passions, and place your thumb into your mouth. "OK! We'll meet you down stairs!" Marta leaves, none the wiser-or so you hoped. 

Hearing the footsteps of Marta's white shoes leave your room, Ransom continues his punishing pace before abruptly stopping, he holds your face in the mirror so your gaze's meet in the reflection. "Look at yourself. . . look at how pretty you are" he begins thrusting into you again, and your mouth goes slack. His cock reaches the deepest parts of you, and the building feeling returns, the pressure in your stomach becoming heavy and you can feel your body begin to lull with your pussy quivering around Ransom's cock. He withdrawals himself almost fully, with just the tip at your entrance before he begins to reinsert "What noises do you make if I hit-right" and as he angles himself the tip of his cock brushes against the raised bumpy surface of your Gspot "here" a high pitched whine escapes your lips and you have to brace yourself against the mirror as he begins to continue to pump you. " Give into me sweetness. . . let it all go, I've got you." his praises make you grip tightly around his dick and you turn to watch the foundation of yourself crumble under his instruction. He's slowly chipping away at your sanity, and your expressions are not lost on him, as he follows your symphony of moans with his own audible low grunts and praises.

He returns his weight on you, grabbing your leg and lifting it onto the sink to give him more access as he returns his hand to your sex and applies pressure to your clit. That was it. Almost too much. The small circles of him followed by his almost cruel pace make your legs shake and your pussy clamps around Ransoms cock "I . . . can feel you getting close again. " Ransom wasn't one to talk, he was barely hanging onto the hinges of his own composure, you could see it in the mirror. His once neat hair combed back hair, now hanging in the front of his head, his shirt was almost completely soaked through with sweat, and a his breath was in an all out pant. "Cum for me sweetheart, cum all over my dick." his absolutely vulgar nothings were the straw that broke the camels back. The circles he'd rubbed into your clit finally caused you into an all out body spasm and he continued to work you through your orgasm, you reached back to hold him for support, only grabbing his shirt before he wrapped an arm around you, causing you to take him further in and the tip of his cock once again touching your cervix before he finally lets out a deep and low groan and floods you with himself. 

Leaning back against him. Completely fucked out. Ransom falls back onto the edge of the tub and sits there with you in his lap, his erection slowly going soft inside you. "Come to my room after the movie" he says in between his heavy breathing; his attempt to steady his breath. "I'll be waiting." he whispers into your ear before he licks the side of your neck. You smile, resting your head against his shoulder and let out a soft laugh.


	4. I'm so heavy in your arms.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dig into the readers past, and get intimate in another way with Ransom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not proof read. Cheers!

Looking at yourself in the mirror of the theater stall, you lifted your sweater to get a better look at your bruised sides. Your ribs, and lower hips were absolutely decorated with purple bruises slowly turning black and blue. A dark blue streak had worked it's way across your neck in the pattern of finger prints. You'd been successful enough at covering them with your hair, but by the time you were on your way home from the horrific two dollar comedy that YOU suggested, you realized that they would be more difficult as they continued to fully bruise. It wasn't until you pulled into the drive way of the Thrombey's mansion that you remembered what Ransom said to you. "Come to my room after the movie, I'll be waiting." You pressed your head onto the steering wheel and exhaled. " What am I doing? " this went against all the rules you had put into place for yourself. What were you? Some giddy horny teenager? You knew better not to pass that boundaries between employer and friend, employers could easily get rid of you, easily replace you, and someone as wealthy as Harlan Thrombey could replace a nobody like you in a second. Find and old, morbid lady, one whose sex drive was absolutely depleted, but was still too stubborn to go into retirement. Someone who Ransom wouldn't work his charm or his good looks around in order to manipulate them. Was he really though? Manipulating you? 

You COULD have yelled and shouted. You COULD have made a scene, hell you still COULD have told Harlan, every opportunity given to you, why didn't you take it? These thoughts plagued your mind as you continued to walk upstairs and into your room. Your bathroom was a mess, shower curtain had been pulled down from the rack when Ransom fell back, and his weight ripped it from it's metal clips, your towel carelessly placed on the floor, with the kicked up rug. Dirty water mixed with dirty footprints, no doubt belonging to Ransom's boots. As you quickly cleaned up your bathroom, placing the towel in the hamper after you'd cleaned up the floor with it, removed the curtain and folded it before placing it into the bathtub. You brushed your teeth, put on a baggy sweatshirt and shorts. 'I'll be waiting' 

Ransom's words played in your head on a loop. In order to get to his room, you'd have to pass Harlan's and fear started to nip at your insides. As you paced your room, the creaking of the floorboards was your soundtrack as you overthought this situation in every angle, your fingers finding their way into your locks you began braiding your curls into two braids. If you didn't go you would not only never hear the end of it, but Ransom wasn't above going into your room himself, he'd already invited himself into your space. What were the chances of him doing it again? The other hand, if you did go to his room, first of all why? Because he asked you to do it?You looked at the time;12:45am. Would he even be awake? You trudged one foot in front of the other and before you knew it, you were down the hall and standing in front of Ransom's bedroom door. The soft glow of the tv peeping out from the bottom of the door, the volume too low to hear what he had on. You heard the floor boards echo as you heard movement from within the room and as you raised your arm to knock, Ransom opens the door abruptly, his massive from taking up the entire doorway. Wearing a tight white t shirt and red pajama bottoms. God he was beautiful. "Sweetheart. . . " he takes the door handle and moves to the side in order to let you in,

You brought your hands together, shrugged your shoulders walking past him. The room smelled like him; ocean spray, sea salt, cedar wood with a touch of musk. Black bedding a cherry wood bed frame with a massive headboard , his wooden floor was dawned with a Persian rug that you were terrified of dripping anything on; it'd cost you a near lifetime to get it cleaned let alone repaired. An antique desk in the corner as well as a bookshelf with an extensive and impressive collection of books. A large flat screen mounted onto the wall that was playing cartoons from the 50's and a double closet with glass handles as knobs. Wall's lined with a turquoise green wallpaper and golden emblem designs, not too Gody but something that screamed luxury. Ransom Drysdale if you had anything, it was your grandfather's style. 

You stood there as he closed and locked his bedroom door, and returning his attention to you. "Evening Sir," your tone dipped in satire. Partly because you weren't sure how to go about the situation; being in his domain, in his space; sure this was his family's house but this was HIS room. He walks around you, taking the chair to his desk and sitting with spread legs, you chose the corner of his bed with your legs crossed. "How was your movie?" he asks, turning his attention to you, hands rubbing together as he rested his elbows on his legs in a way of entering your space without crossing any boundaries. "Absolutely atrocious" you answered quickly. It was the truth, another story of a horrendous man-child doing the bare minimum in the world and ends up with the super model girl, money, and everything is okay despite him being the reason for his own demise. No lessons learned, no immediate harm done. Had you and Marta known it was a stoner flick you would've opted for the slasher film. Ransom smirked into a his palm as he watched your body shift as you explained the plot. You got a giggle out of him as you stood up from where you stood and delved into the horrendous details of the film, you were so animated as you painted a picture for him about how you managed to waste 2 hours of your life not laughing at a comedy. 

"Sounds like a fun time!" he lets out a small laugh. As you go to return to your corner of the bed, you flinch ever slightly as your bruised rear end touches the soft mattress, and Ransom stands at attention. "What was that?" he asks, eyebrows turned upward and head cocked to the side. "Oh uhm.." you tried to make up a fib as he made his way towards you. "I'm . . I'm a little sore from earlier. . ." your head turned downward to hide your blushing cheeks. Since when were you so shy around him? When did you become so bashful? 

As you look up to meet his gaze, he watches your face as he un tucks your sweatshirt from your shorts seeing your face almost emit a pink glow. "Are you now?" his smile dripping with hubris, and his eyebrow turned up. His fingers trace your stomach and he abruptly drops to his knees so his head is placed on your stomach and he dips his fingers in the band of your shorts tugging at the elastic. He looks up at you as you watch him slowly remove your shorts, letting them drop at your feet. You whimper slightly as his fingers gingerly brush over the now black and blue prints spread through out your thighs, hips and lower stomach. You sigh as he brushes the tip of his nose, kissing your stomach just above your belly button as he lifted your sweatshirt again. You're arms lowered and placed on his shoulders, soft breaths became audible as he turned you slightly so you he could now see your ass. A pattern of purple and red marks, your upper thighs littered with finger prints, you brought your hands to your face, the cuffs of your sweatshirt hiding your expression as he continued his examination. A deep purple bruise on your buttocks with flex of red lines caught his abrupt attention and he gently traced it with his ring finger, his brows turned downward and you could see if for the briefest moment a slight bit of concern.

Returning to his feet, he takes you from under your pits, and with no effort lifts you as if you were a sack of potatoes, "Ransom?" you ask as your feet leave the floor and he places you gently near the headboard of his massive bed. "Yes sweetness?" he asks, as he sits himself between your legs and begins fumbling with the ends of your sweatshirt. "Whatchya. . . whatchya doin' there?" you ask trying to return the same relaxed tune, resting on your elbows as you watched him kiss the inner corners of your thighs. 

"I'm . . comforting you" he says in between his lips grazing the discolored flesh of your hips. You giggled as he began pulling up your sweatshirt and taking soft laps of the tongue on your stomach, giving a sharp inhale when he came across the curve of your breast and popped a perfectly erect nipple in between his teeth and gave it a light tug and you sigh. "Atta' girl." he coos as he finally pulls your sweatshirt over your arms and you are naked before him once again. Shyness crept up your legs, over your belly and into your head as you tried to cover yourself while he straddled your legs while he removed his crew neck and tossed it on the floor. Ransom returned his attention to you, your face red and arms crept across your body, covering your breasts with your forearms. "Aht aht " Ransom tuts, as he gently tugs at your wrists. His eyes raked over your form, taking in every curve, mole, stretch mark, and angel kiss your figure had to offer. Beautiful didn't begin to cover it, the last time he had saw your body it was rushed, aggressive, frustrating and almost angry. He never got the chance to drink in the image of you, to truly look at you and now here you were before him perfectly vulnerable under his massive form. You're face shyed away and squirmed under his impenetrable stare. Stealing glances in the corner of your eyes, you took in his body little by little. A God before you, his pecks perfectly carved out, only to be out done by his abs. Arms, his arms are what made you swoon. Strong, stable, solid. To protect. To comfort. To hold. 

You returned your weight to your elbows, as he returned to his standing for to remove his pajama bottoms. His erection sprang forth once he was past the elastic; Mr. Drysdale went comando during sleep hours.

He is upon you again in a flash, taking your face in his hands and licking your bottom lip, you open to give him access, closing your eyes and easing into the kiss. You placed your small hands on the side of his face, and watched his expression as he searched your eyes. "Tell me something about yourself..." you begin. It was true you knew Ransom from what Harlan has openly complained about, to the way he loved to spark arguments within his family. "Like what?" he asks, leaving open mouthed kisses on your jaw line. "I hate open houses" you paused for a second and smirked before turning to get his attention. " When my mom first started her real estate business. . she'd always make me and my father dress up, and play the picture perfect family during her open houses, she wanted to make them believe she had a strong family values." all this he tells you as you rake your fingers through his dirty blond hair. "Mom's have a way of really getting under your skin don't they..." you whisper, turning your eyes upward as he continues giving your face and cheeks soft kisses. "Does someone have mommy issues?" he asks, holding your face in his massive hand. You exhale, and turn your eyes away from his face, turning attention rather to the side of his head as your fingers gently caress his cheeks. It was true, you and your family did simply not get along; a dead beat father had left before you were born and a narcissistic mother that had you, so you'd love her. It left you with things you were still healing from, but were never able to talk about. "Hey.." Ransom's voice is soft, not quite a whisper but manages to call you back to him. "Tell me something you like." you ask, attempting to break the awkward silence that had formed between you. Ransom smiles, a genuine one that caused a warm feeling to spread through your chest and up your neck, across your cheeks and before you knew it you were warmly smiling back. He reaches up and like the first time you met, tucks a lose curl behind your ear. "Biscoff cookies with ice cold milk." he begins again placing his head in the nook of your neck, and kisses you where your ears and neck meet. "The way the temperature cools when I'm on the lake..." he thumbs your cheeks before kissing them. He props himself on one hand, his erection pressing hard between your legs right where your thigh and your legs meet, his other arm trailing down, with his middle finger tracing your clavicle "a cold beer, on a cold day.." he continues his list as his finger trails along your chest, the valley between your breasts, hovers just above your belly button and meets right at your weeping core "the sounds you make when I'm inside you.." he says coolly, following your moan as he inserts his middle digit inside of you. 

Your back arches as he breaches your walls further with another fat finger. "Ha-a. .ah" your soft moans almost make his eyes roll as he continues his exploration of you. Kissing you down, down, down. "Still so tight.." he comments as he finally sits back on his knees. You breath hitches as he lowers himself to you, hitching one of your twitching appendages over his broad shoulders so at this point he is literally looking inside you. "I like how pink you get when you're embarrassed" he presses a thumb against your engorged clit and your fingers become entangled in his bed sheets.

He lowers himself to you, kissing the hood of your clit before giving one strong lap of your pussy. You're body twitches, causing even your leg to jerk. "Sweetest girl. . . in e v e r y way. " and with that Ransom takes your clit in his mouth and sucks harshly. A low moan begins in your throat and as he hums with you between his lips your body writhe's while being anchored to the bed by Ransoms massive arms. ". . .ah..Ra-Ransom. ." your breathy sighs earn you a low guttural moan from him as he continues to feast on you. Upping the ante, he continues to plunge two fingers, working your pulsating walls and earning him another whimper. Ransom takes absolute joy in watching you react, your hips bucking, a beautiful sweat beginning to cover your body in a sheen. Watching you from between your thighs, how your chest raised and lowered, your breasts bouncing with every movement as he pumped his fingers into you, taking glee in your unraveling.

"Ransom..." you continue to coo, one hand finding its way to your mouth as means to keep you quiet, when Ransom releases his grip on one of your thighs to reach up and pull your elbow. "No, I wanna hear you.." he stops only to tell you before returning his work. Your breath works its way to a pant as he curls his fingers inside of you, brushing the tips against that sweet bundle of nerves that causes your eyes to cross and your toes to curl. "Ransooooommm..." you begin to almost cry, your eyes brimming with tears as you begin to overload on pleasure.

He continues the 'hither to' motion, pushing your g-spot with every stroke of his hand, your clit twitching on the tip of his tongue. You almost lift yourself up off the bed, eagerly meeting his tongue lashing. Ransom takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and his exhale tickling your mound and lower stomach feeling the heat of his breath further exciting you. Your hand reaches down, fingers finding their way on top of the crown of his head, finding his hair damp with sweat. The coil in your stomach begins to turn, and the building feeling in your lower abdomen creeps up your belly button, and grapples in your throat. You made the most loving noises, breathy sighs and low moans, Ransom's name on your lips like a prayer.Sucking harshly on your clit, he feels your thighs tremble and knows you're right at the tipping point, your vaginal walls begin to quake around his digits and he braises your thighs to prevent them from closing. "Ransom...I'm-" your orgasm begins in your nether regions, and you arch your back, further pushing yourself into his face as he laps your juices off your now soaking pussy, continuing to pump your pussy, following you in moans and praises. "Good girl..good girl." his praises further causing your walls to spasm around his working fingers.

You are left slack jaw, eyes water and completely limp on Ransoms bed, eyes drooping and heavy. He smiles and returns his naked form to you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you on your open mouth. You could taste the remaining tang of your arousal on his tongue, as he lifts you so you are now collapsed on the side of him, head resting on his chest. "That was the prettiest damn thing I've ever saw." he wipes his forehead with the palm of his other hand pulling your limp figure close, the remnants of your orgasm causing your legs and thighs to spasm slightly, emitting a chuckle from Ransom. "What. . . what about you?" you ask, eyes already closed, lips pressed against his pectorals. "Later. . " he sighs "I was comforting you." he reminds you before turning off his bedside light, allowing the glow of the tv to illuminate the room. You curl your leg around Ransom's adjusting so you are slacked against his figure and drift off to sleep, he followed you shortly, listening to your breathy mumbles and sleepy whispers as his lullaby.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out exactly what took place in our reader's past. Harlan becomes a protective figure and Ransom being Ransom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Chapter has a lot to do with narcissism, mommy issues, emotional and financial abuse, and childhood neglect. I also don't think I conveyed it as well as I could, so notes are always appreciated.

Ransom stirs slightly in his sleep, curled against your sleeping from with a heavy arm secured around your waste. Your naked form was stuck, skin to skin contact had made your skin cling to his but still none the less comfortable. Leaning over you, he grabbed his alarm clock looking at it briefly; 5:30 am. A tad earlier then what he was used to. You stirred in your sleep, brushing your ass against his nether regions, eliciting a low growl from his lips, and causing his member to become animated until it was pressed hard against your backside. He moves slowly, slipping his erection between your thighs, and slowly moving back and forth. Partly to see if you were asleep, the other half to gain some relief. 

He slips a hand underneath the comforter and grabs your bare breast, cupping them and releasing them to see their motions, twiddling them between his thumb and middle finger until they'd puckered under his touch. You sigh, still sleeping. Ransom removes the hair that was covering your face and kisses directly behind your ear, feeling your pulse pick up on the surface of his lips.

He slithers a hand between your thighs, lifting your legs so he has more access to your core now soaking against his erect cock and palming himself so that the head reached your clit. Your thighs, legs, and lower stomach decorated with a pattern of now black bruises. He drags his lips across your neck, up your shoulder. He turns you over so you're now on your back, your sleepy lids flutter open and you inhale softly as continues kissing your chin, and opening your legs. "Morning. . ." sleep leaving your voice soft and raspy, the morning sun slowly peaking through the curtains, leaving the room in a dim blue light. "GOOD morning." Ransom replies, placing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance, and your throat tightens, as he further enters you. "I didn't prep, I have to work you. . . " he moans into the crook of your neck and embracing you in his arms. Your eyes widen, and sleep leaves you as he carves a place inside of you for him, slow, conniving movements as he withdrawals slowly, and almost completely before he swiftly sheaths himself inside you, and you moan in his ear. Ransom grabs the back of your knee, curling the leg around his frame, making you take him further and you let out a loud whimper which he catches in his hand. 

"Fran gets to the house to start breakfast at this time. . ." he explains, normally wanting to hear you, wanting to pull these sounds out of you one by one. "God, it's like your kissing me. . " he comments, hovering just above you so he can look down and see where you two connect, before slamming back into you, making his balls clap against your ass and you moan into his hand, closing your eyes and savoring the motion. You wrap your other leg around him, taking him to the hilt so the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. You could feel the veins of his dick pulse against your walls, and you hang onto his arms, anchored to him and biting your lip to prevent your small noises from escaping. "Such. . . a . . .good. . .girl" his comments punctuated by his thrusting hips. "You take me so well." he continues, holding his palm over your mouth, now damp from your rapid breathing as he picks up his pace, rocking into you. His attention turns to your breasts, bouncing from his actions leaving him completely enamored, you moan again as he laps up a puckered nipple and you arch your back to meet his movements. He sits back on his knees, placing an arm to sit himself up, one hand never leaving your mouth before he is fully kneeling, bringing your legs and mid section with him, your head still laying on the pillow creating a beautiful arch in your back. He removes his hand from your mouth, bringing it to his face, making a "shhh" gesture and you nod in agreement, making him smile benevolently as he started thrusting more violently into you. "I'm going to make you feel so good. . . my sweet girl." his vulgar comments only fueling the fire in your belly. The sloppy slapping sounds of your love making creating squelching noises were the sound track for your morning activities and Ransom was slowly unhinging. He paws at your bouncing breasts, and you have one hand clasped over your mouth, small squeaks escaping your mouth as he continues to work you, the coil, building, the climb to your peak was building again, and you arch your back further into the bed so only your head remains on the pillow and Ransom goes wild and picks up a pace that is almost punishing. "Y/N. . . ." he says lowly, letting you know he was also reaching his orgasm. As you look up to him you nod, acknowledging what he was telling you, and he presses a thumb to your clit and watches you squirm as the tether insides you snap and you squirm as the remnants of your climax soak Ransoms lower section and he follows you in bliss, coating your inner walls white, biting his own tongue to prevent him from audibly groaning. 

He presses his forehead to you, the weight of him collapsing completely on you and he chuckles as the sweat from both your bodies begin to start you to stick. You tap on your shoulder, smiling but also concerning. "Ransom? Don't fall asleep! I have to go to my room!" you laugh, completely immobile from his weight on you. 

It was true, you'd had to go to your room before Harlan woke up. You were always so prompt with your daily routine. It'd almost become second nature. 

Ransom lifts himself from you, and you scramble to find your sweatshirt and shorts, slipping on your sweatshirt and placing your hair in a messy bun. Ransom smiles watching you almost spazz out you attempt to find your shorts. His cum leaking out of you, and slowly spreading down your inner thighs before you finally find your shorts at the head of the bed, and slip them on.

"I'll see you at breakfast.. " he remarks as you close the door to leave his room. You smile, breathing a sigh of relief as you rest your body at the other end of the door. Happy to see no one occupying the hallway as you tipped toed to your room. As you prepared for your day, laying out a turtle neck and high wasted jeans, underwear for your shower, you looked at your phone doing so. 4 missed calls, 2 text messages and your alarm had a 5 minute mark remaining on it. Turning off your alarm before it went off again, you looked at your voicemails noticing the phone calls came from an unknown number. "Telemarketers." you commented before you looked at your inbox to read the two new messages. 

'Hey Y/N it's your mother. I think we need to talk." 

your blood ran cold and you rolled your eyes in annoyance before reading the other message. 

'Oh, I see you're too good for me now, ANSWER ME!' 

you promptly blocked the number, not wanting to instigate a fight where there didn't need to be one. You and your family definitely had its fair share of problems, but your mother could have her own lifetime movie special. From youth your mother used you as either a meal ticket or a bargaining chip. Having spent her money on her many vices, she'd often needed the aid of other family members in order to make ends meet or have a place to sleep until she 'got back on her feet' but this was a reoccurring thing. There was never enough money, time or things that you could do to satiate her ego. It wasn't a loving relationship. She'd all but burned every bridge she had every encountered and squandered every opportunity taken, pouring every investment she had back into herself. After you'd turned 18, things got worse when you left home, and limited her access to you. Her source of both income and security was suddenly gone, when she realized you didn't live for her, she nearly went mad. Up until this point you had successfully evaded her knowing your where about's or phone number so how did she get it this time? 

All these thoughts rushing through your head, you attempted to get rid of them as you washed in the shower not wanting her to ruin your good morning.

Preparing for your day, braiding your hair so it's out of your face, you greet Fran in the hall with her empty tray. "Good morning Fran! How are you?" you ask, with her following you down the staircase. "Well now, look at you all chipper!" she remarks, a smile spreading across her face. "Glad to see you're still in good spirits despite ass wipe being here!" she says the last part in a hushed tone, as you to commence into the kitchen. "We should put something in his food!" and you turn to look at her as you put on your apron. "No. . ." you tsk as you turn the top of the stove on, a few clicks before the fire is lit. "I bet he asked for you to make his breakfast this morning! Little shit doesn't like my cooking." she quips, taking a mug of coffee and sitting on the counter. Curiosity got the best of you. "What. . . what did Ransom do that was so bad? I mean sure he starts arguments and provokes people. . . but the rest of the family-" your voice trails off, not wanting to step on any toes. Gossip wasn't your thing but God damn it, what was it about Ransom that got under everyone's skin. "He's a classicist asshole. . . " she remarks before taking a sip from her mug. "I don't get to call him 'RANSOM' he insists everyone calls him 'Hugh' cause we're 'the help'" she says with air quotes, eyes rolled back and head tilted in a mocking gesture that you can't help but laugh at. "He really only comes over to see his grandfather because low and behold, poor Harlan is the golden goose at the end of this shriveling bean stalk of a family." she confides in you. "Harlan has given him numerous opportunities and he's stubbed every. single. one." she emphasizes, tapping her finger on the counter top as you begin pouring water into a pot and setting it to boil over the stove. You turn to face her. "He's the reason half of the workers quit-well not the only reason." she remarks as if she was withholding information. "Hugh is big on details and appearances, annoyed half the workers with the most mundane tasks. One poor man he made separate the cabbage from a container of coleslaw" she laughs at the end of her sentence. "But coleslaw is cabb-" "I know!" she remarks, slapping her hand at the end of the table and knocking her head back in a laugh.

Returning to the stove top, you placed a glass container over the boiling water, adding butter and allowing it to melt before you added eggs, and lemon. In truth you were making breakfast for Ransom, not that Fran needed to know that. Eggs Benedict seemed appropriate. "Would you like one Fran? Did you eat yet?" you ask peeping over your shoulder as she continued jabbering away her complaints, before giving you a thumbs up to your offer, before she finally started talking about her current binge worthy show that she insisted you get in on. You smiled, toasting the English muffins, poaching the eggs, cooking the Canadian bacon and finally placing a plate in front of her before fixing Ransom's.

"I'll take it up to him, that way you two don't have to see each other." you say with a clever wink, and Fran nods as she was busy clearing her plate.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket as you progress quickly up the stairs and down the hall, softly opening the door to Ransoms room, only to find him snoring peacefully, still in his morning glory. You giggle, placing a napkin over the plate of food on his desk before finally checking your phone as its notifications had been going off like clockwork. Looking down at the glowing screen, your brows furrowed forward and your face twitched in annoyance.

'ANSWER ME Y/N YOU'RE MY DAUGHTER.' 

Looking at the number again and recognizing it as an unknown number, out of area you rolled your eyes. Your mother had her antics, using other people's phone, buying a burner phone, anything to make contact with you, a reaction is what she wanted more than anything. Worry struck you when you were concerned about whether or not she had found out your place of living or employment and anxiety spread through your chest. 

"Jesus, you get a dick pic? What's with the face?" Your thoughts were scattered when Ransom's voice broke the silence. He was sitting up on his bed, resting on his elbows, blankets barely covering his lower torso. He turns his head to stretch off the morning stiffness, cracking his neck and rolling it to the other side when he finally speaks again. "Whatchya got there kid?" you look down at your phone again before you realize he's talking about the plate of food. You take it to him, putting your phone back into your pocket. "Eggs Benedict" you announce, placing the dish, napkins with silverware in his waiting hands, before turning around to leave, only stopped feeling his fingers wrap around your arm. "Hey, hey, where's the fire?" he asks, his face painted with concern as well as confusion. "Ransom, I have to start my day, your grandfather's expecting me. . ." you were being honest. It was true you did need to check up on Harlan, Marta would be here any minute, and you also had to go out and find new shower curtains for your bathroom. "Are you. . . are you ok?" it was out of character for Ransom to pry, hell it was out of character for Ransom to give a shit but something about your demeanor was telling. He releases the grip on your wrist, "Fine, I'll see you down stairs." before starts eating his food.

You go downstairs, wash dishes. Marta arrived shortly after and your served her a plate, before Walt showed up, mail in hand as well as a stack of papers he wanted to discuss with Harlan. "Y/N? " He calls out, holding a sealed envelope. "For you? " he asks before handing you the envelope.

"Thank you Walt" you say, hesitantly taking it in your hands. Two postage stamps in the top corner, it's edges are folded in and it's clearly been bent. The handwriting was recognizable and you physically twitched, before quickly running upstairs to your room. Ripping the envelope to shreds you'd seen it'd been forwarded by your manager at the restaurant. A letter from your mother. It'd made your stomach drop. 

'Y/N, I hope you understand how much it pains for you to think of me in this light. . . . but you're my daughter, you're supposed to take care of me...' 

you paced your room as you continued to read the letter, breaking out in a cold sweat and panic making your mouth run dry. 

'You should know that it is your duty as my daughter to put the past behind us, and return to me as your mother. . .' she continues 'you owe me for raising you..' there was the ticket. Your mother had leached off of whatever money you were earning since you were a child. It was a regular basis your piggy banks would be broken into, when you were finally working money would be missing from your purse, when you'd finally moved out she'd stolen your debit card and cleared your accounts. A cycle you'd thought you ended when you severed ties and moved out of state. Norman Bates had it easier than you. 

'you ungrateful, useless child, I gave you life and what you do with it but waste it away every time you are away from me...' 

it didn't get much better from there and by the time you'd reached the end of the letter you had tears running down your face and you were audibly sobbing. "Y/N, what do you think about-" Harlan's voice breaks your trance and as he opens the door the two of you make direct eye contact, your tear stained face and puckered lips all too telling "Oh, my dear.." he extends his hand towards you "What is it? Did Ransom tell you something?!" he gestures you to follow him. "Come on, lets have a little chat." the anxiety within you heightened but you nodded. Your stomach turning as the two of you descended down the stairs and into his office once again. 

He sits at his desk, thumbing through the mail Walt had placed on his desk, junk mail mostly, Walt had somehow managed to put a Manila envelope with a dense stack of papers inside it which Harlan promptly pushed over into his waste bin of the desk without a single thought. "Now, Y/N. . .I may be old but trust me the instincts get sharper as one ages and if you think I'm clueless old timer but I know when things are taking place under my own roof." you fidget in your chair, still holding the letter in your hands. "I'm. . .I'm so sorry Mr. Thrombey" your voice soft, shaking, you were apologizing, not really sure what for. Your fight or flight response had kicked into high gear and you were completely nauseated. "If, if I did anything to offend you, believe me that wasn't my intention and-" he cuts you off "My dear, I don't think I could replace you if I tried." he laughs, partly to ease your mind, the other to somewhat lighten the mood. Trying your hardest not to seem as defeated as you were. Adding unemployment to your list of an inevitable pile of a shit storm that had began taking place in the early hours in the morning would've almost tipped your fragile state of mind. 

"But I am concerned about something." he says with a laugh, shaking his hand.

He reaches under the desk, beyond your view and removes a stack of sealed envelopes wrapped in a silk ribbon, all addressed to your former job, forwarded to Harlan. "Now I was expecting one or two notices from your previous job, but this." he taps on the letters "was a bit of an overkill. I'm sorry to say I accidentally opened. . . one of the wordy ones on accident. I wanted you to tell me when you were ready but seems now a good a time as any." he explains, placing one of your mother's letters folded in three quarters in front of you. Fear struck its chord in your chest when you realized it was another letter from your estranged mother. 

"Now, do you want to tell me whats going on?" He asks, assuring but firmly. Your head collapses in your hands. "I, don't have a relationship with my mother..I know, I know family is important to you Harlan but that's just not a pillar I grew up having." you explain as your voice cracks in between words and you hold your jaw in your mouth to stop it from quivering. "My dear. . . " he sighs, to let you know he is listening. 

"My mother has narcissistic personality disorder." you explain further. "Her whole life has been wrapped around how I could serve her, love her, and their were consequences when I wouldn't. . .oblige. Most of my income was to keep her afloat, I never realized in doing so-" "You were drowning." he finishes your sentence. "Parents have children because they offer us a chance to be better than who we are. To build legacy. . to have a child is to put someone's else's life above yours; to live for another person. . ." Harlan's voice trails off, "Oh my dear, you've been raising yourself." his voice shaking, pure empathy is what you feel radiate from him. "I didn't mean to bring this into the house." you explain sobbing at the end of your sentence, your body physically shaking. 

"I changed my phone number, moved out of state, covered my tracks the best I could" you go further, getting it all out in one breath. " But I don't ever seem to get far enough, if she finds out where I live-" "She won't" Harlan stands from his seat, making his way towards you, and placing a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. Your eyes glazed over with tears and your face now swelling from the salt. "I didn't mean to drag you into my mess Harlan." you sigh, turning your head down. "Would be a good plot for a book, no?" he jokes "A psychotic mother, out to destroy her daughter.." he suddenly starts searching his pockets for a notepad and you let out a light hearted giggle.

As Harlan makes his way to the front door of his office, Harlan assures you once again as he grabs the door handle. "Y/N, as long as I have a say in it, you are safe in this house" and he takes his leave. You sigh, wipe your eyes on your sleeves, removing the small bundle of letters from the desk. Not planning to read them, merely burn them once you get the chance. Leaving the office, you closed the door behind you with a click. "SO. . . " Ransom's voice came from the side of you. He was preoccupied in a chair next to the office door, and once again anxiety caused your hands to break into a sweat, and the tips of your fingers to tingle "Are you going to tell me whats going on?"


	6. Water me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about Ransom's intentions. . .

You wiped your eyes, looking down at the letters. It was an inner battle within you to tell Ransom what was actually happening, or whether to brush it off. He'd find out eventually, being as close to his grandfather as he was it was bound to happen. The other part of you did not want to seem weak, a damsel needing saving especially since you two had recently became intimate. Vulnerability wasn't your bag especially when it'd bitten you in the ass before. Anything you'd say could easily be pitted against you, brought up, used to mock you. Not thinking twice about it, you placed the bundle of letters in your hand, transferring it to his. "Have a good read." you suggested, removing your apron and heading towards the front door, grabbing your coat and your keys. "Y/N?! Where are you going?" Ransom asks, following you out the door. "To buy new curtains!" You announce, getting into your car. A bit of hesitation on your part, when you turned and looked at Ransom, thumbing the bundle of letters with a questioning look before turning to look at you. Your eyes were now puffy; it'd been apparent to him you'd been crying. But why was it any of his concern why you were so upset? What the fuck were you to him that he felt this intense need to find out what made you tic. He retreated back into the house watching you drive off, untying the small ribbon that had been wrapped around the small stack of letters and walked back into Harlan's study, taking a seat by the fire place and kicking up his feet. As the clock ticked, he read and re-read the hand written notes over and over again. Disgust didn't seem to cover it. The feeling brewing inside him, left a bad taste in his mouth and he'd lost count of the amount of times he'd rolled his eyes. 

Where did this lady get off? This nobody. Entitlement was something carved into Ransom's bones, having not worked for anything in his life; but who could blame him? He was set up for failure if anything, and who would want a job? But he never had to give up his luxuries to support his mother, he never went hungry and he always knew where he was sleeping at night. Sure he could invest, play it safe on the stock market. Maybe even have Harlan give him a job, but really, who dreams of labor? But your mother really took the cake; A roller coaster of emotions with the beginning and ending of each letter; love bombing at one end, and then terrifying, horrifying and down right cruel collections of words at the other end of the spectrum. Easily building you up and then breaking you down. 

'You're all I have.' 

'You're the only thing I've ever done right.'

'We don't need anyone else.'

would then almost immedietly meet a slurry of degrading insults, to the point where reading these letters seemed almost like an act of violence against one's self.

' You're crazy, you need mental help '

' Loveless ugly girl '

' Aren't I more important than your work? '

' you've been brainwashed against me! ' 

' what good are you without me? '

' Failure ' 

That last one caused a burning sensation in Ransom's chest and he couldn't help but see red. Without a second thought, he placed the letters in the fire place, turning on the gas and struck a match. Ransom had his fair share of run-in's with legality of his activities but this was the one time he felt like he had done something dirty. Almost as if disposing evidence from a crime someone else committed. Watching the letters curl, and burn, his thoughts racing as he leaned over the fire place, making sure the ashes dispersed before thinking about his next move. Well this just wouldn't do at all, a psycho tailing you and for what? For control? Simply because you happened to share the same DNA? From the gist of what he read it seemed more like your mother wished to possess you, not care for you. Something to hold to make her complete or to "fix" her. Sure he had his share of overbearing mothers but this was overkill. It was as if you were an object not a human, and the feeling left him uneasy and also angry. But why? It was as if his psyche was fragmented; part of him trying to figure out how to handle the issue, the other half wondering why he gave a shit ABOUT the issue.

What were you to him? Another conquest? Another roll in the sack, another notch in the headboard. No, couldn't be. He'd easily have women pawing at him, his phone on silent with a list of numbers blocked from celebrities, socialite priss's, models, ' influencers ' when life got especially dry. He could have the cream of the crop, the bell of the ball so why did his gaze fall on you? Why did it STAY on you? Why the hell was he baffled and wondering about where you ran off to? Why was thinking about the smell of your neck, the way you talk fast when you're nervous? Hell, he hadn't stayed at the house this long since he was Harlan's intern, but he wanted to be there because that's where he knew you'd be? Turning off the fire place he left the study with his thoughts. 

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By the time you came home, it was the later noon; time to start dinner. You walked in with a plastic bag on the crook of your elbow and a paper bag of groceries in your arms. "Harlan! I'm home!" you announce walking past the threshold and into the kitchen. You remove the perishables from the bag and into the fridge. You finished cleaning from this morning's breakfast, wiping down counters, washing dishes; everything you had left behind from this mornings grievances.

Deciding the weather was cold enough for soup, you decided tonight's dinner would be a stew. As you prepared your mind drifted, your shoulders tensed, recalling what happened before you left the house and you cringed. Maybe it was for the best you hated seeming weak in front of anybody let alone Ransom, and rather than you blabbering away in sob story that was your life, you'd prefer he read it himself so there was no bias, no exaggeration, no fixed line. You had no story to your life because there were no roots to your upbringing. You'd been dragged around the world by your mother since you were a child. So there was no nostalgia for a feeling of 'home', there was no need to belong anywhere or to anyone. You could easily pack up everything in a box and never talk to anyone you've encountered because there was no sense to attach to anything because you saw everything and everyone as temporary. Sad as it was, it was how you grew up. So when Harlan and Ransom were curious about your circumstances, it almost stunted you. Why? What was in it for them? 

Marta walked into the kitchen, greeting you with a smile but it wasn't until she spoke that you were ripped from your thoughts. "Y/N? You ok? the pot is overflowing." Oh shit, you were filling a pot of water before you drifted from reality. "Y-yeah! Fine Marta, just a little tired." your eyes were still slightly puffy from this morning's sob fest.

"Would you like some coffee or maybe a soda?" She asks, opening the fridge and looking at it's inhabitants, and pulling out a coke for you. "How's your day been?" you ask trying to change the subject. "Oh fine, fine, Harlan just trying to avoid Walt's questions about movie rights is all." she attempts to keep her answers vague, you knew it was only because Marta didn't have a mean bone in her body; hell the girl couldn't even lie without puking; twice on occasion you've held her hair while she vomited into an antique vase, and a house plant. . . that you later had to clean out while she cried apologizing. "How are you feeling Y/N? You look a little worn out. . " she asks, approaching you from the side "Harlan is down for his nap, do you need anything? Any help?" You smiled at how tender she was and nodded. 

The two of you chopped veggies, stirred your dry ingredients, made your roux and before you knew it the pot was on the stove and left to cook. The two of you chatted, laughed and for a minute you forgot about how this dreadful day started. "So, whats your game with Harlan?" she asks, and you give her a puzzled look. "The best way to bond with Harlan is to find a game you two can play, for me it's GO." she explains, washing her hands in the sink. "I don't . . .I don't know how to really play most board games." you explain, not that you weren't willing to learn, but it was true you had no idea how to play chess, checkers, or Go. :"Oh, don't worry, we'll teach you! Although . . Harlan is a bad loser" she explains again, and you two share a smile. 

"I thought I was the only one who could beat him at Go." Ransom's voice announces from the other side of the kitchen, and a cold chill runs down your spine. Marta turns to look at him before returning to face you, "I'm going to go check on Harlan" she throws Ransom a quick glance before returning her attention to you. "If you need anything, just call!" she tells you as she makes her exit. You huff, hearing Ransom's foot steps draw closer with your back to him, and anxiety sets in. 

"So . . ." he creeps into your space as you finish washing dishes in the sink, "So" you say very dry. "You think your mother will try to come here?" he asks, placing his back against the sink and crossing his arms as he faces you. "I don't know Ransom" you answer, not looking him in the eye. In a sense you were annoyed at the situation, another reason being him poking around at an already sore spot causing your fear to spike and you began the physically sweat. "You know if she does we'll handle it." you drop the plate in your hand and it shatters in the sink. "And who is we Ransom?" you ask taking off your apron and walking around the counter to avoid him as you leave the kitchen. "Me and you!" he yells following you into the living room, you could hear the anger in his voice, and the agitation of his actions as his footsteps went from soft treading to thundering as he came upon you. "And what are you and me? What the fuck is it to you that I'm in the place I'm at!?" you ask genuinely curious, also attempting to jab at his ego. "Why the hell did you tell me if you didn't want my help?" he asks, closing the space between you two. "Because you asked!" your arms up in a rage. "You think I need some help from a trust fund baby who hasn't worked a day in his life?! Living off of grandpa's money?! Buying your sports cars and your designer clothes?! Growing up only to be a fucking adult infant!? A man baby!? I don't your help! I can handle this myself!" you yell, if you couldn't create a distance between you physically, you could tear down his playboy facade. You see his face morph, brows turned down. Growing up in his environment it took a lot to get Ransom angry enough to move into action, but your vapid words struck a chord and he storms towards you in a way that makes you flinch knowing you crossed a line." BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO! " his voice bellowing through the hallways and corridors of the house, making you shake at how loud he could be, and his hands are upon you, grasping at your shoulders, and pulling you close and you physically struggle in his arms, not wanting him near you as the lump in your throat started to grow and tears of sheer frustration make their way down your cheeks . "You're under my skin Y/N, what the fuck am I SUPPOSE to do?!". You look at him, tear stained and nostrils flared " Let me take care of you Y/N." Ransom's tone hushed and he cups your face in his hands, his form hunched over so he's no longer towering over you. Your brows furrow, your feet grounded on the spot when he at first tries to pull you but seeing as your stubbornness kept your feet cemented to the wooden floor and he pulls you aggressively into a kiss, his teeth grazing your lips and you attempt to smack and swat his shoulders. "No" you keep repeating as his body begins encasing you, using one arm to pull your small frame towards him and again his lips are upon you, "no" you ball your hands into fist and bang against his chest and arms, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. It was a moment of pure intimacy, not felt with any sort of agenda other than to comfort you and the feeling left you uncomfortable. Vulnerability. How could you display it? "no..." a final plea to keep your walls up before you cave into Ransom's kiss and relax in his arms. He can feel your tears against his face and hands as he holds you to him, smell the salt of your sadness as he gives you a gentle kiss in his grip turned your insides and flipped your stomach. Your breath beginning to pick up speed to the point your hyperventilating. ANGER, frustration, fear. He'd gotten the close someone had ever gotten to being close to you. 

"Y/N! Are you alright I thought I heard AH!" Marta stops in her tracks in the doorway of the living room. "Oh my God. . ." she clasps her hands around her mouth, her beautiful hazel eyes, somehow managed to get bigger as she watched you and Ransom embrace. Ransom turns, releasing you from his vice like grip. "Oh my God..."


	7. The Holes in my sweater.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marta deserves a raise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe everybody! I hope you enjoy!

"Oh my God" Marta's eyes widen in terror, seeing you entwined in Ransom's grip, moment's prior seeing you two lock lips. She clasps her hands over her mouth, and you break free from Ransom's arms and hurry to her, grasping her shoulders. "Marta! Marta! It's not what it looks like. . ." you attempt to explain. "It is, it's exactly what it looks like." Ransom explains, crossing his arms and walking over, almost as if to intimidate her. "NO! NO, ok, listen it's. . it's complicated. Just please, PLEASE don't tell Harlan, I'm begging you!" you plea, your voice shaking as you as you try to steady yourself. Cortisol pumping through your veins, and your hands physically shake. "I don't know! I don't know what's going on, Y/N! You know I can't lie!" her eyes widen, her eyes water. 

"Listen, all you have to do, is pretend you didn't see what you saw." Ransom explains smoothly, rubbing his hands together. "All you have to do.." as he scratches the back of his head, in an attempt to relax the atmosphere. "Is just tell . . .fragments of the truth." he goes on further. "You saw us down here. . . Y/N broke a plate, and I was checking to make sure she was ok." Marta raises her brows at Ransom, and gets the closest she can to sneering at him. "You know Harlan won't believe that, he's bound to find out, the whole family will know, and-" "MARTA!" you yell to keep her spiraling. Ransom rubs his thumb on his lower lip, you could see the gears turning in his head as thoughts began processing before he subtle moves you to the side and takes Marta by her shoulders "It's a matter of Y/N safety. . . if you tell Harlan, or really..anyone for that matter you're putting her well being on the line." he explains with such a coldness that makes you shutter "Ransom. . ." you tug on his shoulder to get him to release his grip on her. His expression dark, his eye sight unshakeable. "You could easily go missing, turn up in a ditch somewhere.." his words dripping with ice. "Your car isn't the best model, could need a tune up, be ashamed if one day the brakes stopped working." Marta's eyes water further and you can see the fear in her eyes. This was a totally different side to Ransom, you'd never seen him act with such contempt before. Sure he'd boss around house workers, makes the help call him by his first name but this was the first time you had ever encountered what appeared to be pure malevolence within him. "RANSOM!" you yell as you tug until he releases his hold on her. 

You take Marta's face in your hands, a nurturing instinct took over as you attempt to comfort her. "Nothing will happen to you, I promise, I won't let anything happen to you Marta, you just need to do this one thing for me ok? And I promise I'll explain everything as soon as we figure out what we're going to do, ok I promise I PROMISE!" you plead as quietly as you can, searching her face for some registration of your words. Marta swallows roughly, bringing her hands to hold yours and she closes her eyes to steady her breathing. "Ok. . .ok, for you Y/N. I'll do it ONLY for you." the last part she says in a hushed tone before shooting Ransom a look.

"Where did everybody go?" Harlan's voice announces as he starts his way down the descending staircase. "Down here!" Ransom yells in response. Looking Marta square in the eye, as the old monarch reaches the bottom of the stairs. Almost as if to warn her, it was the closest he could get to holding a gun to her head in order to keep her quiet, and she knew it. Ransom had gone through house, home and caretakers like they were toilet paper, a spotty past AT BEST, but he came from a powerful family, he could wipe her off the face of the earth and go for pancakes after without a second thought. "Hey Harlan, I'm just waiting for the stew to simmer, should be done in a few.." you explain as you physically make sure you are directly between Marta's small frame and Ransom's massive form in an attempt to both protect her and also break the tension. "Marta was just going to help me put up my new shower curtain." you say, tugging poor Marta by her hand and gesture her to follow you upstairs. "What happened to the one that was in there?" Harlan asks, taking a seat on the couch, "Mildew!" you answer as quickly as you can before exiting the room with Marta tailing behind you. 

Making it to your room, you closed the door behind you and exhaled as Marta stood parallel to you with her arms crossed. "God this day just needs to end." you say, placing your head in your palms. "What are you doing with Ransom? Did he force himself on you? Is he paying you?" Marta's questions hit you like bullets, each one coming out of her mouth with lightening speed and embedding a hole in you. "No! God no!" you start, your form sliding down the door until you were sitting on the floor. "We. . . I don't know what we're doing but no, he never forced me to do anything." you attempt to start explaining. "Well I'll tell you what, it must be a hell of a thing for him to go as far as to keep it happening under Harlan's roof." Marta utters as she removes your new shower curtain from it's plastic bag.

You look up at her, head cocked to the side.

"Ransom only gets that heated when arguing with Harlan, usually about his allowance.." she says it so casually, her nimble fingers unwrapping the shower curtain on your bed. You follow her to the bathroom and help her take down the railing, she notices the large tear but says nothing. You were already embarrassed enough as it was, not wanting to explain how you had a quickie while she was on the other side of the door. You begin unhooking the metal clips and putting things in place, ready to set it up a new. "Y/N what are you doing that has him so angry?" you sigh. "I don't think it's me. . . it's a matter of circumstance." you explain the whole spiel that was your life, you went through it so casually you didn't realize how fast you were speaking until you looked at her dopey eyed expression, by the end of it, she merely wanted to embrace you. "Mother's live for their children, but with you. . . and with this family." she gestures her hands, twitching her lip and you can't help but laugh. It was true from what you had saw the Thrombey family was high functioning in dysfunction with the smallest gesture or word ready to set them off. It was as if they had lived in a house of cards, one move and it goes toppling over. Marta's entire life was family, having a close relationship with both her mother and sister, she couldn't fathom the idea of being completely on your own. "So he's trying to protect you?" a question you hadn't thought to ask yourself. "I suppose. ." you guess. " Than why can't we tell Harlan? " she was genuinely curious and you took in her question, twitching your head. ' why couldn't you tell Harlan? ' you thought. "Probably would just complicate things?" your answer is glib, but enough to put a bandage on the situation. 

"Think you'll be able to stomach dinner?" you ask her, finally putting the finished rod into place and she helps you out of the tub, "For you I'm willing to try." Marta was too good to you. 

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Dinner with the pope and the devil would've had less tension in it than whatever hell meeting this was. It seemed like a race as you and Marta had attempted to scarf down your plates as fast as possible, opposite of Harlan and Ransom, the two gentlemen sat idly by, partaking in a literature discussion of the different tales of creation that was slowly turning into a intellectual debate. "You ladies must've worked up an appetite!" Harlan remarks, watching you both on the corner of his eye. 

"Yeah, assembling a shower curtain will do that to you." Ransom answers for you, however his glare was pointed at Marta. She finishes her food, clears her plate and excuses herself from the table. "Harlan, I gave you your meds at 6:00, if you have further pain, take a Tylenol, and I'll see you in the morning!" her movements fast but almost robotic as she leaves, so much so that you feel yourself cringe.

"I'll start the dishes!" you announce as soon as you hear the door close, you leave the dining room table, so quickly that you almost trip up on the rug. Harlan could feel the tension, and Ransom's brows, in an attempt not to physically recoil, as he watches you stumble; keeping this a secret much longer would be the effort of tremendous work.

"Do I have some sort of virus?" Harlan asks out loud. "You'd think everyone was avoiding me like I have the plague." his eyes go to Ransom, who returns his gaze. Harlan saw Ransom as a younger version of himself; stubborn, full of pride and blind ambition with no target. He showed tremendous talent when it came to literature but the ideal of applying his knowledge to a 9-5 made Ransom dim himself down to be passed over from opportunities. He almost cussed out a CEO when he got a gig as an intern; when Ransom found out he'd be working for 'experience' he threw a chair out an 8 story window for having his time wasted. No, Ransom had the ambitions of becoming an overnight success, and why shouldn't he? His mother was set up by her father, why shouldn't he be? And the bragging, God. It made him feel ghastly, and he'd often openly cackle every time his mother; Linda would whip out the ol' ' I built my business from the ground up. '. Maybe the reason he acted out was to mirror their ghastly activities. Sure money offered security but absolutely no self awareness. Ransom was very aware of how bad he was, and how bad he could be. It was something he took pride in; he'd often tug at the threads of discussions during family gatherings and watch the family claw each other's eyes out while he'd silently retreat or stay in the room and watch the family indulge in verbal cannibalism.

Harlan, the sharp witted monarch he was indulged in these verbal spars only once in a while, whenever a line was crossed, or he felt a need to stop it before the damage was irreparable. Sometimes it became too unbearable, he'd go into his study in order to avoid the unnecessary stress. Old yes, but he was far from a fool. He'd watch Ransom's demeanor change every time you entered the room, the way his eye's flecked whenever you spoke. How his facial expressions would soften when he'd hear you singing along to the music you were playing, how he'd look for you in the corners of his eyes. Something was up. But what was it? Harlan hoped to God Ransom hadn't sunk his fangs in you; corrupting you in anyway, or God forbid intimidate or berate you; something Ransom was notorious for. 

Not wanting to yell fire where there seemingly wasn't one, Harlan also excused himself from the table, and retreated to his study. Having live long enough, he knew that anything put out would eventually come back around, and he'd find out exactly what was happening. . in time, no need to poke the bear at this very moment. 

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Ransom cleared his plate, joining you once again in the kitchen. You had cleaned the kitchen counters, had the placed the left overs in the fridge and were currently attempting to pull the pieces of ceramic you had previously shattered out of the garbage disposal. Last thing you needed was a bill for pluming when it could've been avoided. " Y/N," he calls out to announce his arrival in the room as you retrieve the final piece of the plate " YESSSS!!!" you say victoriously, holding it up as if it were a trophy, and Ransom smirks. 

He places a hand on the small of your back,a comforting gesture but he was also attempting to test the waters, seeing how you'd blown up previously to his touch, and when he found you relaxed under his touch, he further approached you. "Y/N. . ." you turn to him. Your cheeks tinted pink, eyes still slightly puffy. You looked worse for ware. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." your voice low. "You look terrible." his response causes your eyes to roll. "Ransom do you really want-" "I'm just saying you should turn in for the day." he makes clear. 

" Everything will be alright. " he knew it wasn't exactly what you wanted to hear, a temporary solution to an impending problem, but he felt the need to comfort you in some way. Your tired form before him, seemed more like a shrinking violet standing along this mountain of a man. " Do you know how many times I've been told that? " you ask. " Not by me. " he quips, applying pressure to your back. " I'm not going to be another let down ok?. " he promises, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. The butterflies return and you close your eyes savoring the skin on skin contact. A complete 180 from how you'd seen him earlier. A gentle beast, attempting to pacify you, and ease your anxiety. You inhaled his cologne, his musk, closed your eyes and recalled the memory of him pressed against you. He takes your chin in his hands and places a soft peck on your lips. " How about I sleep at home tonight? " he asks, maybe the time apart would be good for you. A little bit of space and it would lower suspicion in the house, and definitely help put Marta at ease. You turn your eyes down before nodding. " I'll be back tomorrow, try not to. . . break anything while I'm gone?" he laughs.

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You tossed and you turned that night, a hot bath, a glass of warm milk with honey, new bed sheets, sleep meditation videos, nothing was working. You looked at the clock for what seemed to be the umpteenth time; 1:30 am. You pulled your comforter off yourself, placing your feet on the cold hard wood floor and crept out your room and down the hall to Ransom's room. Slowly opening the door, you tip-toed in. It smelled like him. Heavy musk, in the dark of the night it was hard to navigate around the room, you hadn't dared turn on the light as you tried to fumble around until you came to what appeared to be his dresser. Opening the second drawer you found an array of cable knitted sweaters. Stroking your fingers across the differing fabrics you stopped at a cream colored sweater, slipping it over yourself. The edges of the end right at your knees, fitting you more like a lose dress. You peeped your head out the doorway, looking both ways before tip toeing back to your room, closing the door shut and returning to bed. After getting comfortable, you tangled your hand in his sweater and surely slowly, sleep found you.


	8. Sweet little love maker.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's done in the dark will be brought to the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for two things I don't like how this chapter came out, next one will be better I promise. And two, it was late.

You've caught Marta's vomit in your hand a total of three times this week. The family visiting further rustled both your nerves and you had the guilt of someone who had just hid a body. Harlan went about things as usual and you think that would be enough to steady poor Marta's gag reflex however when Linda and Richard came over, the urge to purge was ever prominent. 

"Have you guys seen Ransom lately?" "No." Marta dry heaved and you covered her mouth and chucked the bile into the ficus tree in the corner of the living room. 

During a small barbecue on the lawn she cornered you two again "Ransom really should come over more often don't you think?" "Yes! Of course!". Luckily you were on the lawn and caught the upchuck right as it became projectile. It was fine, totally fine. Grass didn't need to grow there anymore anyways. 

"Ransom is such a-Marta are you ok?" "Yeah she's fine!" You were able to drown out Marta's retching with the sound of the garbage disposal, and later had to snake the sink. 

You'd gotten into the habit of carrying Scope, mints, gum, and an on-the-go tooth brush, as well as hand sanitizer and a package rubber gloves for you. "Y/N, I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up! Please let me tell Harlan!" Marta pleaded, sitting on the floor next to you as you were currently working on replanting the ficus tree in a new ceramic bowl. "Tell Harlan what?" Harlan stepped into frame, and you instantly froze. "Tell Harlan that I'm planning. . . a get together for the family?" you ask, tilting your head up puppy eyed and still holding the stump of the tree in your hands, and soil on the floor. He smiles looking over at you and Marta. 'don't ask her, don't ask her, don't ask her' The chant playing over and over again in your head. Harlan leaned over the two of you sitting on the floor. You could hear Marta's stomach flipping, and the acidity creeping up her esophagus. "Is that true Marta?" he asks, looking her dead in the eye. Her face twitched as she responded. "Y-yes Harlan!" she tried to sound convincing, and you let out a soft laugh. Maybe you would get through this-oop no there she goes. Right into the Ficus's new pot. "I knew something was going on." Harlan steps back so his nurse could curl on her knees and finish vomiting into the bowl that you'd later have to clean. 

"I understand you young girls have your own lives, but I deserve to know what's going on in my own house Y/N!" He sounded wounded and guilt buried its way into you. "And forcing Marta to lie for you?" "I was going to tell you Harlan! Everything just happened so fast!" you explain, putting the plant back in it's old vase and rubbing Marta's back. "She didn't force me to lie." Marta's voice echoing in the container. Poor Marta, still so sweet even when she was power puking. "I'll tell you everything! I'll tell you anything you want, just. . I'm sorry. I thought it was for the best." you attempt to give an excuse knowing it didn't dismiss your somewhat conniving ways, but at least it would explain them. You stood on your feet and Harlan signals for you to follow him into the office. As the door closes you hear the ficus tree slip out of place in it's empty container and fall on the floor. Son of a bitch. 

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By the time you were done with your entire story, telling Harlan probably more than he needed to hear, he was smirking. You recognized the same face mimed in Ransom. Like he had gotten away with something. "I knew it." was all he said. "I knew something was going on with that boy." he sighs. Completely unprofessional, you put Marta's word on the line. "Must say I like you better than his last girlfriend." Hold up, hold up, whoa who said anything about being a girlfriend? "I'm not sure. . .I don't think.." you started. "My dear than what would you call it?" his voice became commanding and you looked up at him. "Let me tell you this Y/N, do not get involved with him unless he plans on loving you out loud as well as behind closed doors." his words wash over you, and a fear creeps into your veins, up your arm and plants into your head. True. Why would Ransom want to keep it under wraps now that Harlan knew? Shame? Guilt? Worried how his prissy parents would perceive him? His dad had dicked down half of Massachusetts, what's it to him who Ransom was 'dating'? Ugh that word.

You hardly dated. Counting the sticky thumping's of the backseat of cars, sneaking into boy's houses because they still lived with their parents, never spending the night. Nothing really progressed passed that so maybe that's why you were still ok with being a secret but Harlan's words lit a fire inside you, and gave you more questions than answers. The word "Love" stuck out to you as well. Ransom didn't love you, if anything to you it seemed like you'd become more of a project. You couldn't conceive the idea of love without feeling some sort of doubt. You'd heard it from drunk men at bars, your mother...when she wanted something. To you loving someone wasn't real love. It was something you said to people to get them to do things for you. Your conscience was cleared, but you were curious now more than you were before about the label he had placed on you. As you got up to leave to clean up the mess in the hallway "I won't tell a soul." Harlan assured you as you turned the knob to the exit. "Oh, and Y/N!" he shouted so you turned to face him. "Looking forward to that family get together!" he tells you with a wink as you leave. 

You cleaned the hallway, made Marta some bone broth, told her how your discussion went with Harlan and now you'd have to plan a family game night. She laughed sipping her soup and nodded in agreement. You shunned yourself trying to fight the urge not to ask this question but it eventually took over, and before you knew it you were asking the words; "Has Ransom had any..other girls over?" Marta raised her head and her ears perked up. "Are you..are you jealous?" she asks, leaving her bowl of broth on the counter table and making her way over to you leaning, completely intrigued. "Well, no I have no right to be but-" "But you want to know if he's done this with other home workers? No. He's brought girls to family gatherings, I've had better conversations with a thermos." you two share a laugh. "He's never really brought girls around Harlan, most of them . . . well from what I've seen have always been arm candy, but that's about it. His mother sometimes sets him up with her friends daughters but he's such a menace that he usually ends up not only burning that bridge but salting the damn earth behind him; Linda lost 3 clients before she finally gave up." Marta caresses your arm tenderly before leaving your side. "I'm positive this has to be more than that; anything that causes Ransom to put in any effort he immedietly bails. I've seen him download a remote control app on his phone because the remote was on the other side of the room." you laugh again. Her words reassure you

Your day went off further without a hitch, you felt lighter knowing Harlan not only knew but had your back. Something you felt completely comforted by, you'd never had an adult, an elder at that completely and utterly not only trust but put your well being at the forefront of his mind. The sense of security was absolutely foreign for you. You strolled around the house, taking inventory of every board game you could fine; Harlan had some classics. Candyland, Life, you found an original copy of Monopoly but upon finding it, immedietly crossed it off your list knowing that it would most likely end up in a screaming match and then you'd have to call the hotline they give you to settle family disputes and you weren't looking forward to that headache. And then you came across the board game Clue and an idea popped into your head. 

Making your way back to Harlan's study you read the back of the box for the instructions; "Harlan?! How long has it been since you've played-" you stop your sentence as you entered the room, finding Ransom now sitting cross legged in the chair adjacent to Harlan's, and your breath stopped short. "Clue?" you finished, eyes darting back between the two of males. "ages.." Harlan answers. Your heart beat picked up to a steady percussion and you attempted to finish your sentence without meaning to jumble or mush words as they both eyed you. Ransom raking his eyes over your form, taking delight in watching you squirm; he hadn't even spoken to you yet. "The game of 'who done it?' are we planning a party?" Ransom asks, his thumb grazing over his lips. The look he got as he was putting two and two together. 

"A costume party of who done it? Everyone has their roll, and there's a body in the library that no one knows who got there." Harlan begins bringing his ideas to life and you looked dumbfounded. Why couldn't this family do anything normal? When you thought of game night, all you were hoping for was some board games and cheap wine. "I'll send out the invitations." Harlan announces, retrieving a stack of his own personal stationary from his desk. "That's not . . . I wasn't. . . " Ransom smirked, hearing your little stammer knowing you were flustered as your idea got hijacked and put into Harlan's agenda of getting the family up and active. "What should be on the menu that night Y/N? Lady fingers? Edible intestines?" Ransom insidiously egged on the monarch, just adding things onto your agenda. "spotted DICK" you snapped as you closed the door in your exit, emitting a chuckle from Harlan as the door shut. 

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Harlan had taken the liberty of creating the characters as well as having Allan his assistant send them out with a prop. A candle stick, a lead pipe, a Nerf gun painted to resemble a pistol, a spanner and a rope. The day had worn you hard and put you out wet. Having assembled the table, cooked dinner, decorated the rooms and made a liquor run, you'd volunteered for the role as the butler; absolutely refusing for Ransom's opp for the maid. You weren't wearing a french maid outfit. Nope, but now you were stuck fumbling your bow tie in the mirror having no idea what you were doing. You'd watched 5 YouTube videos, and read through 3 wiki 'how to articles'. You finally got frustrated and gave up, putting on your shoes and running down stairs for a final run through; in your hurry you almost ran directly into Richard right as he walked through the door, Linda trailing along after finishing a cigarette. "Hello Y/N!" Richard welcomed you with open arms and it almost made you feel uncomfortable when he embraced you, your arms out not wanting to return his affections. A yellow sweater around his white collared shirt and brown slacks; he was supposed to be Colonel Mustard. 

"Y/N, your tie is undone." Linda looked at you over, your hair combed back into a neat bun, and simple earrings; for some unrelenting reason you'd always hoped to get her approval on your apparel . Her attire was a deep purple suit, her thick black glasses, hiding her violet eye shadow; it became apparent that her character was supposed to be Professor Plum. Following not too far behind the couple; their son. Ransom in a white t-shirt and green cardigan with denim jeans-was he supposed to be Mr.Green? "Ransom! You're here early!" Linda looked at her son in surprise as he walked passed them, bent over your form and began fixing your bow tie. 

Your breath got caught in your throat. His face mere inches from yours with a laser like focus on your undone and wrinkled bow tie. You had to hide the sound of the sharp inhale you took as he took the material in hand. "Mr. Drysdale" formalities in check, he subtly smirked. "I didn't know you participating in tonight's event." His dexterous fingers work over your tie into an almost expertise way; having gone to many galas, social events, requiring a tie or suit; the gentlemen knew his way around a wardrobe. His breath smelled like mint and a light coral color began to form on your cheeks; unbeknownst to you, this moment of tenderness was being witnessed by Richard and Linda; she tugged on Richard's sleeve as she watched as Ransom continued to gently adjust your buttons on your shirt, making sure the lining of your blazer matched your shoulders, and he even went as far as fixing a stray curl that had fallen onto your face. "You know I always like to know 'who-done-it'" he finishes the last remark with a wink as he finishes up your bow and returning to his towering stature.

The rest of the family joined as the night went on into the late hours, you maneuvering them from one room to the other, and good God would you need to sweep and mop after this whole ordeal was over. Harlan having played the victim meaning all he had to do was lay down essentially napping in his study while his family began throwing around not only inaccurate but down right dumbfounding scenarios of how and who the murderer were. Several accusations lead to full on arguments and you'd broken up a fight between Walt and Richard around 3 times. Joni trying hard to play peace keeper and initiate some sort of prayer circle; broke character around eight times. You were trying your damnedest to avoid Linda and by proxy Ransom, not wanting to get cornered by either had become some sort masochistic game of cat and mouse, as Ransom had taken every opportunity to grab your elbow while standing next to you, place a hand around your neck when he'd been able to go unnoticed in the room. Brandy and cigars filling the room, you could've caught tennis elbow from the amount of drinks you poured. Meg graciously giving you her portions to steady your nerves, or to get you to give her clues, you weren't sure. It was baffling to other family members how active Ransom had become in the game, not actually drawing out fights or finding the same familiar discourteous attitude, the same sneering, eye rolling or cocky smile as he'd initiate a fight. God bless Meg cause truly you had no idea how you were going to continue on as if no one actually figured out the mystery; "Colonel Mustard, killed Mr. Scarlet in the library with a rope!" you could've leaped for joy had you not been so exhausted from the day's festivities, and partially intoxicated. 

You watched from the window as one by one they disappeared into their cars. Joni, Meg, Jacob, Walt, and Donna. Richard warmed up the car as Linda took the liberty of smoking a lose cigarette with Nana Thrombey sitting on the front porch, watching them drive off into the paved roads, be blinded by the headlights. As you stood from your spot, you staggered around the kitchen and up the stairs, hanging onto the the railing as if you were on a ship lost at sea. Sea sickness and all. Falling back one step, only to be met with a wall of a body, Ransom's arms snaked around your waist and he placed his chin on your head. "Is someone tipsy?" he asked, already knowing. "I can't undo mytie.." you say all in one breath, the scent of cigars lingering on your outfit was making you downright nauseated. Ransom lifted you up the stairs, his strength continued to impress you, your legs more or less dragging between his feet as he continued up the hall and into your room, almost tripping on a set of dirty chucks discarded by the door way. "Y/N you've got to clean your room." he chastised as he set you on your bed. You fell to your side, face into the pillow as Ransom went for your door attempting to close it before rushing to your side as you mumbled into your pillow. "You're mom...cshe scares me." your slurred words made Ransom smile. "How how is this going to work?". That question made Ransom stop in his tracks on his way to your bathroom. "You're you, and I'm messo so how are we doing this?" your drunk thoughts spilled out of you in an endless row of slurred sentences, which Ransom let you continue as he fetched a wash rag from the bathroom and began removing your earrings and washing your face. "I'm a speck of dust beneath your feeth, your mom's suit alone costs more than my tuition for school." you pouted. "How would, how would that look?" Ransom sat silently as he continued to rub your face into the wash cloth at one point muffling your words with the rag trying to remove your makeup and some what help sobriety come quicker. He had no answers for you.

He himself struggled with the answers, what would people think about such a pair? He was supposed to be the guy with the newest, youngest model on his arm, the latest "it-girl". It's not like his parents were necessarily happy with his choice of relationships, girls who looked like walking Snapchat filters; pinches noses, waist trained waists, augmented lips and faces. After a while they all looked the same, spoke the same, and like many others, Ransom included were only interested in the leisured and secure life that money could give. There was no basis, no floor, nothing deep, these were relationships were as shallow as a shower. But what could he say about you? You came from no-where, you had really nothing in common other than on occasion sharing a roof. Sure Harlan may be benevolent and didn't mind blurring the lines between classes but Ransom's mother... as well as his father took major pride in the Thrombey name. Attempting to get in big with New York Socialites like the Vandercamps, Vanderpumps and Rockefeller, 'The Thrombey's' was a name that carried a good amount of weight to it which is why his mother refused to drop it and opted to have "Thrombey" hyphenated. "I drive a car from the 90's...it has a tape player and everything.. and and you're trying to pretend to be boyfriend girlfriend with me.." you began to cry as your little drunken tirade broke Ransom out of his train of thought. The word 'girlfriend' repeating in his head. Ransom hadn't had a girlfriend since he was a teenager. Not to say he went without, but the title never carried any weight to it so he tossed it out of his vocabulary. What was the point? A title wasn't going to keep him faithful to one girl, if anything it'd paint his partner in a bad light for allowing him to live his full hedonistic nature. He began working on your bow tie finally, slowly undoing it and removing it from your collar when "Ransom? What are you doing?" Linda Drysdale was standing in the doorway of your room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ransom gets possessive. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm writing these chapters as if they are taking place like. . . day by day but I'd prefer to look at them as something that happens in a series of weeks? If that makes sense.

Linda Drysdale liked to think of herself as a salt to the earth kind of gal. Sure she had taken a 'minor' donation from her father of a million dollars and started up her own business but what flourishing business didn't? She met Richard during her college years, he was a football player, she was the thriving business major who in her pursuit of greatness had her business take off and before she knew it, she was the bread winner in the house. Not that she was cut out for being a house wife; God no she hated the idea of being the one running the show at home. Cooking, cleaning, tending to her son? Not her idea of a good time. That's not to say she didn't loved her family, especially her father. Linda felt that she was her dad's confidant, nothing she did went under his radar and she not only worshiped but inherited her father's excellent work ethic, and also felt she had been induced with his wisdom and some-what odd sense of ever knowing exactly what was going on, and exactly what to do. 

When she had Ransom she gave him everything he could ever ask for, and had a nanny on hand for him so he was never left unattended. As he reached his teens and early twenties she noticed her sons pattern of going through money, bar hopping and socializing. He enjoyed the life but had all but flunked out of school, with no aspirations or care in the world for anything or anyone but himself. Linda then thought the best thing for her son would to be to hitch him to another spoiled socialite to straighten out the crooked map of his life. After the fifth attempt she'd given up after realizing Ransom wasn't going to change for any woman because he simply found nothing wrong with his behavior and simply did not want to change, no matter who caught that responsibility. When he began bringing 'friends' to the house and around his family they were merely tools in his agenda to spark a fight, a debate, an argument. The fucker should've bought a stock in Plan B, the amount of times he'd make a late night run for them due to his..unprotected activities. 

So when she walked upstairs to see where her son had disappeared to without telling her goodbye she was surprised to find him tenderly washing your face with a wash rag, undoing the laces of your shoes, her eyes widened. Seeing you lose consciousness, your head getting heavy and tipping over from one side to the other, it's when Ransom's fingers found the button of your blazer that she finally spoke; "Ransom, what are you doing?"  
Ransom froze, before going back to his work casually taking the question like water off a ducks back; quickly answering. "Y/N's a little tipsy, just helping her get to bed." he removes your blazer and drapes it over the chair of your desk before meeting his mother in the doorway. "See? No harm done!" The charismatic arrogance had returned, if only to cool his mother's suspicions. 

"You need to be careful with that!" she follows him down the hallway. "Ransom! Ransom!" she calls out in more of a loud whisper until he stopped in his tracks "Ransom, there are people who have sued their employers for looking at them the wrong way, you think of what she could do to us if she catches you undressing her?!" Ransom smirked. Her, them, the family. Always about the name. Ransom's mother lived for the future which was fine but it kept her from the current moment. "God forbid the family name goes through anything. . . controversial." his tone dripping with sarcasm as he descended down the stairs, the clicking of her heels following him. It was true. Everyone. Every. Single. Family member was crooked. Ransom merely chose to show who he was first and for most rather than hiding behind the 'good name'. He said what he wanted, did what he wanted and damn anyone who didn't accept him as he was. Not that he needed or sought out the confirmation or even acceptance. Everyone else wasn't afraid of being a bad person, they were merely afraid of other people knowing it, and it drove Ransom crazy. "Ransom! I don't want to have this talk again." Linda chided him, pointing her index finger in his face, her upper lip tucked into her teeth and her voice sounding strained. " Do NOT go near that girl again, think of the family." she grabs her coat much to her husband who had been waiting in the car the entire time's delight. He had taken the liberty of practically sitting on the horn. "Keep your hands to yourself Ransom, can't you find another plaything somewhere else?" she asks, not waiting for Ransom to respond as he followed her out the door and walked to her car and drove off. 'Play thing' the sentence ran through his head a few dozen times as he walked off the porch. Is that all he was capable of?

Ransom got into his car, closing the door and putting on his seat-belt. He placed his hands on the steering wheel and inhaling sharply. Tonight gave him a lot to think about. You, your mom, HIS MOM.

Exhaling, he turned the car on and drove off.

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You were never drinking again. Brandy was a lot nicer going down than it was coming up, and all you wanted was to lie in bed with ice over your head. Wearing a lose tank and overalls, you were sweating alcohol and briefly wondered what the families alcohol tolerance was as you went about your house work. Gathering the lose rugs of the house, hanging them over a wired clothing rack Marta and Fran had helped you put together, Harlan absolutely hated the smell of cigars that remained in the fabric of the furniture and carpeting. You prided yourself on being able to get out just about any stench and busied yourself giving the house a deep cleaning. The cool fall breeze chilling your skin as you continued to perspire and hang up the heavy rugs on the rack. Harlan watching from the patio as you staggered a bit. The lethargy from last nights party could be seen on your face.

Harlan found your work ethic impeccable, only comparing you to Marta who would literally simply do the right thing when no one was watching, he didn't think he'd found anyone else to akin to outside of his family. Sure it took some effort to unravel you, more like a tug-a-war on his part. He understood more than others why you attempted not so much to keep secrets but merely valuing your privacy. Walking through the door; Ransom with a box of donuts and today's mail, he paused looking at three letters all written in the same style looking at Harlan and back at the letters; he finally recognized the handwriting, the crumpled edges and stack of stamps in the corners. They were more letters from your mother. He looked up at Harlan, down turned brows and a concerned expression. Ransom knew damn well you did not want him interfering in your business especially when it came to your relationship with your mother; or rather lack there of. "Do you think she's been trying to phone her?" Harlan asks his grandson, looking out the window, watching you full on beat the living room rug with a carpet beater. Ransom handed his grandfather a letter before meticulously taking the other and carelessly opening it. He had no intention of giving you these messages so there was no point in being elegant about it. "If she does, we'll have her number changed." Ransom answers cooly as his eyes skim your mother's letter. "Ransom I hope for once, you really know what you're doing." Harlan responds not giving Ransom his total attention as he uses a letter opener to open his envelope. "The worst thing you could do to Y/N is play house. . ." Ransom smirked. "Do you think she's my latest play thing?" it was an actual question. "Do you think I'll love her and leave her?" Harlan paused to turn his head, making direct eye contact with Ransom, taking a break from the verbal tirade that was your mother's letter. "If you decide to keep playing with her heart, those rugs aren't going to be the only thing hanging from that line."

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Ransom continued down the hall, reading your mother's letters as he passed the staircase and walked directly to the fireplace. After finishing reading the pure filth that was enveloped in the messages he removed the metal guard and placed the letters directly into the fire, poking it directly under the log as to not leave behind any evidence. He wasn't going to let her have you. His eyes grew dark and he frowned at the idea of anyone or anything getting in the way of you being his. This obsession with you, the need to be near you, touching you, holding you had gone overboard and spilled into his public life. His mother, his grandfather prying into rather private matters of his supposed 'love' life only fueled his need to scoop you up and lock you away. The more people pushed their own agenda for his feelings, the more he felt the need to isolate. As the fire died out and the embers faded, he fingered his keys in his pocket before walking out the front door, walking through the seemingly endless row of dirty carpets and almost caught the rug beater in the face as you were going GI Jane on an antique runner. "Y/N!" He called to you, grabbing your shoulder as you swung the beater overhead and he dodged it by almost squatting down. You jumped at his touch, holding the wooden tool over your head and yelping "WHAT!?" your fear making you nearly shout. Taking your headphones out you repeat your question. "Yes? What?" you were out of breath, your voice cracked between words. "Break time." is all he says, taking your hand in his and leading you to his car. "What are you doing Ransom? I have work to do." you lecture him as he opens your passenger door, meekly pushes your head down so your forced into the seat and even goes as far as buckling your seat belt. Your sweat damping his fingers and he rubs his fingers together as he goes around the hood of the car and takes the passenger seat, starting the car and quickly driving off. "Ransom!? What are you doing!?" You ask realizing he was absolutely serious about it being 'break time' as the car drove further and further away from the house. Your phone rang immedietly looking at it and seeing Harlan's contact you answered immedietly; "Y/N! Where are you going?" his tone more concerned than angry, no doubt he'd seen Ransom more or less drag you away. "Harlan I'm-" Ransom snatched the phone out of your hand, promptly pressed it to his ear as he drove off the property "She's being taken care of!" he answers before carelessly tossing your mobile device out the window, you just watched in awe.

"What?" he asked, his eyes peaking through his sunglasses that were lowered on the bridge of his nose. "It was an old model anyways." True your phone was crap, the case was cracked, there was dirt in the crevices of the case and the charging port hardly held your charger but dammit that was your phone. You could hear Ransom's phone vibrating through his coat pocket; positive it was Harlan again, he turned his cellular off. You were now getting worried the farther and farther he'd gone off the property, you finally looked back at your passenger side window and realized you were being taken into town. Finally stopping in the mall parking lot, you exhaled before asking again; "Ransom, what are you doing?" you asked, more frustration in your voice. Taking off his seat-belt and quickly exiting the vehicle; "We're getting you a new phone." you followed him out, "Ransom, you can't just take me from my job, THROW MY PHONE OUT YOUR FUCKING CAR-" his pace faster than yours and your walk broke into more of a slight jog next to him as the two of you entered the building. "Ransom!" he finally stops in his tracks and turns to actually look at you. He could see your frustration, nostrils flared and brows turned down, with a hint of uneasiness. "What are you really taking me here for?" you ask, tugging on his sleeve.

"I told you, we're getting you a new phone." he continues his gaze up and down your smaller figure. Your overalls were dirty, your shoe laces were hanging on by a thread and he was willing to bet money that the soles of your footwear was next to nothing. "A long with whatever else you might need." and he continues to head towards the electronic kiosk. "I don't have my wallet." you attempt to get him to turn back and return you to the house, "I don't remember asking you." his remark met with a head tilt as you continued to follow him like a lost puppy. 

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This was the most spoiled you'd ever been. New socks, new shoes, some leisure wear, pajamas? Who the hell even bought and WORE pajamas? Leisure wear, tops, dresses, thermals for the cold, and a few pair of jeans on top of a new phone, Ransom had already plugged his. And only his phone number into it. "You have a new phone number, so you won't have to worry about any more pesky phone calls." he hinted at your dilemma, not wanting to name names or send you into what we could only compare to another temper tantrum. You had fought him almost every step of the way, explaining how you didn't need this, you didn't want that, where would you wear that to? No that was too expensive, no that didn't go with your style. Ransom finally settled that he'd have to pick and chose what he bought for you despite your audible objections. Making your way to the car, bags in hand. Ransom finally dug his cell phone out of his coat, turning it on and finding a plethora of messages not just from Harlan but also his mother; Linda. As he made his way into the driver's seat, he listened to one of many voicemails before opting to call Harlan. 

"Yeah? No, NO, she's fine. She's with me." 

you hear the conversation start as you buckle your seat-belt sitting quietly as you heard Ransom get berated on the other end of the line. "Look, I'll bring her home-what?" there was a pregnant pause as Ransom started the car and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. "Well did you talk to her?" You watched him quietly as he began speaking in a hushed tone, only looking back at you for the briefest moment before turning his attention back onto the road. "No, I don't think I will. . . " Ransom answers in that cold, almost maniacal tone that he used when he threatened Marta. The tone that set your pulse to a thundering beat and raised your blood pressure. It was then you noticed you weren't headed in the direction of home, in fact you were headed the opposite way, and you began to panic. "Ransom..." you ask, looking out the window for some semblance of familiarity, a tree, a school, a main street, anything really to find your bearings only to come up short. "Well if you're so fucking concerned what are YOU going to do about?!" Ransom hung up the phone. The volume of his voice caused you to shake internally, and you brought your knees up to your hands. The rest of the car ride was left in silence.

It'd be about an hour and a half before you came to a heavily wooded area, the dirt road leading up a ways towards a clearing where there sat among the trees, a lake house, tucked around the shrubbery. The drive had left you drowsy and the uneven road made your head bob as he pulled the car into the driveway. "Ransom, this isn't home, you said you'd take me home." your voice shaking slightly as you placed your hand on the dashboard and looked out all the car windows hoping to see some sort of sign of civilization. "Yeah.. you're not going home." Ransom said in that same cold, conniving tone. Your jaw shook and you almost began to cry. "Your mother called the house."


	10. Trying to be yours.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader has a melt down because I have writers block. Cheers.

"What do you mean my mother called the house?" You asked, your hands gripping the car interior. "A detective working for your mother called the house.. that's really all you need to know." Ransom got out of the car, removing your bags as he leaves to enter the lake house. The look on his face, you could tell the gears in his head were turning. How'd she find out you were Massachusetts? And who the fuck was this detective?

You watched as Ransom disappeared into the house. With shaky hands you opened the car door, barely closing it enough so that it'd latch and walked quietly into the house. Your heart was pounding against your chest, your blood ran cold. "Wh-where's the bathroom Ransom?" your voice sounding so small, so meek. He turned and looked at you, you were shaking, eyes turned down you looked so fragile. Your hands gripping the lower fabric of your overalls and your feet turned inward. "Down the hall and to the right. Hey are you ok?" You didn't answer him, merely following his directions and entering the bathroom. As soon as the door closed and locked you collapsed behind it into an audible sob. Panic took over and you began hyperventilating. How did she find you? Who told? You'd gone from job to job to job. State to state. You even stopped talking to most of your relatives after realizing they would never take your side; 'she's your mother', 'family is family', 'blood is thicker than water'. You'd heard it all. But at the end of the day it was the same regurgitated lies over and over again. 'she's changed', 'that was the past you need to get over that', 'you need to respect her'. The cycle would continue if you let it. So you simply disappeared from her and the rest of your relative's lives. But she'd always find you, whether a relative reaching out and finding out your phone number, your job, it'd only be a matter of time before she'd either get a hold of you or find someone else who could. 

A solid knock on the door broke your train of thought. "Y/N..." Ransom's voice from the other side of the door and you could hear him shaking the doorknob as he tried to get in. "Sweetheart?" there was that word again. "Let me in.." his slight plea in his voice gave way and you unlocked the door. Covering your face in your hands. Your face puffy and eyes swollen, your lips trembling. "Hey..hey." Ransom's hands placed on your shoulders before he went and full on embraced you, bringing you to his chest before you began full on crying again into his shirt. "It's happening again.." you mumbled into his chest.

You released your hold on him and turned around as words began to spill out of you; "She's going to tell them I'm crazy, report me as a threat to others and myself, she's going to admit me as a 5150, they're going to make me take medication...." you reeled off. All Ransom could do is watch as you drew up the worst case scenarios in your head. He'd never seen you this frantic before, pure fear making you tremble and your pupils blown. Your face contorted into a scrunched mess of concern and panic as your lips frowned, brows turned downward and eyes closed shut, your voice breaking into sobs, breaking into extensive patterns of shaking breath until you were full blown hyperventilating. Opening the door to the bathroom so you weren't as crowded, he scooped you into his arms. Babbling sentences that didn't make sense, he attempted to sooth you as he took the stairs to his room. The architecture of the house was a complete 180 compared to the country house. It literally was a house made of glass, the structure of metal but walls of see through glass; privacy among the thick forest of trees and a view of the lake that surrounded it. It felt more like a fortress than a home. Minimalism with hints of eccentric tucked away in corners. Antique mixed with modern, the walls were pretty bare compared to the cluster of picture frames, portraits and trinkets Harlan had at his house. Ransom laid you on the bed, removing your shoes and tucking you underneath the black bed spread. You curled into a ball continuing to cry quietly into the pillow. 

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Ransom had spent the last three days on the phone with Harlan, and his mother. The back and forth arguing had gone from negotiating to bringing you back to the house, to how and who this detective who your mother had hired to track you down. Harlan hadn't gave away your location, nor did he stay long on the phone with him. An expert at handling delicate situations when it came to family matters, Harlan charmed the detective enough to pacify the situation for the time being; he being an old friend of his father. The two shot the breeze, Harlan had simply gave him the run around, again and again and again. But he warned Ransom that Benoit Blanc was like a tiger in waiting, an ambush predator willing to examine all means, words, speech patterns, and traces of anything he found that to him didn't seem to add up. Ransom had googled "Benoit Blanc" around a hundred times, his couch became more like his work station and the glow of the laptop had left his eyes tired and his posture stiff. Blanc; world famous detective, he had numerous article written on him for successful cases around the world. Specializing in murder cases, missing persons, and notorious to having his own 'special way' of viewing things. This 'unique' feature Ransom was taking hours to dissect and figure out without making actual contact. What made him so special? Was he brilliant? Was he methodical? Did he work with the police? His most prominent article currently being "The Last of The Tennis Ball Sleuths"; Ransom dismissed most claims when watching interviews of the Southern gentlemen; his accent was heavy and he spoke using a lot of old fashioned mannerisms and eloquent speech patterns; but ultimately Ransom decided he was back water bumpkin and he'd hoped that thought would be enough to subdue the anxiety that was growing inside him. He could see you wasting in bed, the color fading from your face, your eyes. Your mother did something to you that was irreparable seeing your reaction to her getting closer and closer to trying to find out where you were. He wouldn't let her have you. Hell if it came down to a toe to toe, he wouldn't let her even see you, if protecting you came to physical blows, he wasn't above getting his way by any means necessary. You'd stayed in the same position since Ransom had taken you to bed, he'd get up out of bed you'd be there, he'd return to bed you'd be there, he'd walk past the room, you'd be there. You felt completely numb. A pulse the only real thing that seemed to be monitoring your life as you watched the days turn to nights through the glass walls. 

Your face completely swollen, hair and and head greasy , causing flyaway hairs to your forehead, drool from sleeping in the corners of your mouth. Hearing the bed room door open didn't exactly set you into action, it just told you that Ransom was coming into his room. The weight of the bed shifted, and you could feel Ransom leaning over your frame. "You haven't eaten in days, come on sweetness get up." you grumbled and pulled the blanket over your head, before Ransom quickly removed the entire bed spread causing you to shrink further into yourself. He walked around the side of the bed, leaning over you again. "And you're starting to stink." You pulled the pillow over your head attempting to ignore him before he pulls you by your ankle, once again hoisting you up and taking you to the bathroom. You were just not cooperating, your legs simply would not work, and he dragged you by your pits, feet sliding on the hard wood floor. Walking into the shower, he held your frame with one hand while turning on the shower with another. "Come. On" his tone becoming demanding. He placed you, clothing and all into the tile shower, propping you against the wall as the water went from cold, to hot, to warm. Undoing your overalls from their metal clips, taking off your undershirt, bra, underwear and socks, he was almost getting angry at the lack of effort on your part. Your body language resembled that of a rag doll, and when he realized you had absolutely no intention of doing absolutely anything he began stripping himself. Removing the shower head and temping it on his hand before he kneeled down next to you and began literally spraying you in the face and body. He washed your hair, scrubbed your scalp. His fingers working the conditioner into your hair in order to de-tangle the rats nest that had formed from your lacking hygiene the last three days. Washed your face and your body, you slowly began cooperating when he asked you to turn your face, lift your arm, lean forward.

Wrapping you in a cotton robe afterwards, and toweling down your hair as Ransom wrapped a towel around his waist and gingerly guided you back to the room. Looking at the shopping bags, he thought a simple t shirt and shorts would be most befitting seen as the melancholia had yet to leave you. He had washed you, dressed you, and guided you down stairs placing you in front of the tv while he channeled surf. The silence you carried with you was heavy, bleed into the mood of the room and almost seemed to make the air in the house change. You jumped when the door bell rang, springing behind the couch so you were no longer in view of front door. "Take out." Ransom walked to the door to retrieve his order before returning to you in the fetal position on the kitchen floor. "Hey, hey hey, Come on, no no no" he attempts to gently calm you , sitting next to you. God what had happened to you? Paranoia was stealing the tint of your cheeks and leaving your face pale, caused your hands to shake. "You were doing so well, come on." he ployed you to come return on the couch with him, getting plates down from the cupboard to get ready to eat, fixing you a plate setting at the coffee table so you'd be more willing to join him.

He waited for you like a person waiting for an abused animal to finally decide to come out when it was hungry enough to take the bate. As he continued flipping through channels, you slowly rose from where you were sitting on the floor and sat on the opposite side of the couch as he helped you to a plate of food. Curry rice with pork cutlet. You crossed your legs, ate in silence. He peeped over at you every once in a while watching you consume little by little, making sure you were actually eating. The other half of him wondering just how and why you were so far away. When he'd finished his plate, he placed it on the coffee table, you finished your food and took it and his to the kitchen sink and began washing them. It was muscle memory, Ransom thought, peaking over at you. When you took the carry out plastic bag and the empty containers he thought you were merely being polite. It's when you began wiping down the kitchen counters Ransom realized you were working; "Y/N, what are you doing?" he asks, rising from his seat. "I'm trying to get this kitchen cleaned" your voice small and meek. "Why?" he further pries. It may have been due to the need to self sooth, maybe you were trying to distract yourself from circumstances, but then you started taking apart the stove and he stood in front of the sink to stop you. "WHY?" he repeated his question, lowering himself to look you square in the eye. "Because I need to work." you explained. It was true, you were at a member of your employers house, not only that you were in Ransom's space again. Not knowing where you stood with him, your drunk tirade doing more harm to you mentally than you'd like to admit, you needed lines paved with concrete not drawn in sand, and not knowing anything about anything at the moment, you needed to know where you stood with Ransom. 

"You don't need to work, you need to relax." Ransom remarks trying to keep his cool. He had been calm for the entirety of the time, show you, buy you, and care for you as a means of attempting to woo you; he wanted you but he was losing his patience. "I don't need to do anything, I need to get this kitchen done." you remark pulling a paper towel from the rack. "Stop it Y/N." he commands "STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!" You screamed. "You are my employer, you brought me here, you won't take me home and I need to clean." snapping. "Stop trying to play house with me ok?! We don't even know what this is! You don't even know what you're doing or what you're getting involved in!" you were tired, you were angry, and had no direction for where to place your anger. So why not Ransom? He had been the one to initiate whatever this was, this booty call, this fling, this situationship. You continued to wipe down the counter, drying it quickly, moving to the other side of the kitchen when you were getting ready to spray down the island in the center Ransom knocked the spray out of your hand and grabbed your wrist, turning your face him, grabbing your face and roughly kissing you. You bit his lip, and he shoved you against the counter top, lifting you so you were sitting on the island. "No!" you shouted, you weren't doing this again. You weren't having a break down and having him kiss it better. "No!" you continued as he placed his body on you and kissed your jaw as you thrashed and kicked against him "No, I don't want to do this!" you continued as your fists pounded on his shoulders and arms 

"I don't know what to do" he explains in between kisses, pinning your arms to the granite counter top as you continued to thrash against him in protest. "I want you to be mine, I want to take care of you, I don't know how else you want me to show it." He lifts your shirt above your head freeing your naked body to press on the cold counter. "I don't know what goes on in that head of yours, I don't know what she did to you to make you think..." he kisses you again "You don't deserve to be adored" You were audibly sobbing, tears running down your face, and you turned to face away from him, not because you weren't willing, yes you wanted him but his words struck you like bullets." I want your panic." his words pealing back the layers you worked your ass off to build, one by one. "I want your anger." He was stripping you of your defenses with his loving words, his kisses, soft nips of his teeth as he continued running his mouth down your neck, between the valley of your breasts and stopping right at your bellybutton. He frees his erection from his underwear continuing to kiss you, feeling you surrender to him as your arms finally went limp beneath his grasp. "I want your sadness, your hate, your jealousy, your hurt, I want all of it; because it's you." he sighs into your stomach "I don't know how else to do it..." 

Exhausted from the ups, the downs, the fighting, the arguments, the letters; your head laid on the cold counter and you sigh. "That's it sweetness." your surrender, your body relaxation was something sublime. He kissed your thighs your legs, your feet as he removed your shorts, your bare ass on the bar top and you shudder at the coldness "Easy...easy." he continues to comfort you, finding you slick between the legs, Ransom sighs rubbing the head of his dick between your folds. Your tear stained face softens as he gauges your face upon entering you, watching your reaction, and seeing your hands clutching the side of the counter so as not to move. "I'll get you out of your head..." he comments as he slowly lulls in place allowing you to adjust, he hitches your leg around his waist as he makes you take him to the hilt and a soft moan escapes you. "I'll make all those bad thoughts go away.." his promises causing tears to fall again, he leans over you, propping himself on his elbows and his lips meet the crook of your neck.

He ruts against you, and you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders bringing your legs up around his waist so he goes further and your head lays on the counter top as he pulls smalls whines and sighs from you like he was playing a fine tuned instrument. "That's it sweetheart.." he praises you watching the expression of your face change slowly as he continues thrusting. The chemistry of your body causing you to gush as he works you. He palms your face, places his thumb in your mouth and you suck before he pulls you into a kiss. He withdrawals and presses his forehead against yours, he shudders against your face, feeling his hot breath against your cheeks. Looking at you and gripping your chin so you are looking him directly. Your eyes search his, as he examines your features. "I won't let them take you from me, I promise." Your lips pucker into a pout and your attempting to stop your eyes from watering, blinking repeatedly and he kisses away the tears that fall down your cheeks. You'd never been one to be this emotional, and frankly neither was Ransom. Especially being physical. For you prior the closest thing you got to intimacy was second rate hand jobs in the back of cars, men who wouldn't trim their fingernails scratching your labia like it was lotto ticket, and boys who thought owning a PC was a personality trait. Life had not been good to you romantically. So could anyone blame you if you were second guessing if Ransom wanted an actual relationship with you? 

Ransom on the other hand; physical was most of his relationships were, a fuck, a suck, a used condom, and a trip to the local 7/11 for emergency contraceptive. His relationships all ended once the condom was off and his load was spent, maybe he'd text back, maybe he wouldn't. But it never progressed past that. 

This was different. Sure the two of you had fucked already, but the closest you'd gotten was now. He watched your body shake, the way you had a beautiful glow as your pussy gripped around his dick, getting closer and closer to your peak. The way as you were being worked your chest, neck and face turned pink, and the way your eyes rolled as he bottomed out in you. "Good girl, that's my girl" how praises caused your inners to twitch and quake around his member, the way your hands held onto him, and you arched your back to meet his touch. He ran his fingers through your hair, stopping at the base of your skull and pulling you close so your face was in the crook on his neck as he pistoned inside of you. Your soft moans and whimpers were the soundtrack to your lovemaking as he brought you to your peak, worked you through it and then met his own. He continued to hold you as his movements became sloppy, lazy, holding you close to him as he slid off the countertop so you were now sitting and resting against his chest. "They're not taking you from me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies on how long this took, I've had a serious case of writers block that I just can't seem to shake, I'm so open to suggestions, and apologies on this being one of the weaker chapters.

Linda Thrombey Drysdale had become a regular at Harlan's house. Not that he'd ever turn down his own daughter; her being the only one to actually build something out of his vast fortune, he felt she was closer than most. "I don't know what to do anymore dad..." she explained, walking back and forth in the office. "This could ruin us, Ransom, shaking up with a girl you hardly know?!" her voice beginning to break in between sentences as she paced the office. "She could sue, she could say she's been sexually assaulted, Stockholm syndrome.." she reals off. Harlan merely watched her as she made her worries audible, waiting for his moment to speak as not to derail her train of thought. "My heart..." Harlan starts in the middle of her pausing to gather her thoughts. "I really don't feel like that's the case here." he attempts to calm her nerves. She pauses, looking at him and waiting for him to explain. "When have you known Ransom to put effort into anything that didn't have an instant pay off?" he asks her. It was true. Ransom hadn't put much effort into ... anything really. Cheating his way through college so he'd have a degree under his belt; Ransom never knew the meaning of hard work, of putting up a fight, hell of putting up anything. He'd always opt for the easy way out. Paying his way out of parking tickets, paying his way out of college, paying his way out of scandals, headlines, and even once assaulting a paparazzo who had caught him on an off day. Ransom had no idea of the meaning of the struggle, and Linda saw to that. 

Harlan felt tremendous guilt in the lightening of the weight of his other family members, maybe it was to keep them dumb, or to keep them on a leash or maybe even to keep them beneath him. But seeing Ransom fall into line when it came to protecting you was something different. It was like watching a man be called to arms and finally find his meaning in the world. The way he talked, the way he moved, the way he carried himself had changed, little but noticeable, even if Linda couldn't see it. When things got difficult, Ransom would leave, change the subject or project the issue onto others in order to start a fight. Harlan was very similar, enjoying watching the family argue, seeing how deep the knife could be driven into one another, but in his old age the fight simply wasn't worth it anymore and watching the family partake in the carnage quickly grew old. So when he found Ransom looking at you, watching you, finding reasons to bring you up in conversation, a hope that had died long ago seemed to emerge like a phoenix rising. A transformation he took absolute glee in watching, he'd never seen something so fascinating in all his 84 years.

He had done his dammest to pacify Benoit Blanc in order to keep him to reaching his ultimate destination; You. Giving him the run around, shooting the breeze, making small talk are all thing Harlan had acquired a skill for in his later years. Being notorious for wanting his own privacy respected, he knew how to draw attention away from himself and others. He explained to Blanc that he'd hadn't heard from you at all, and that if he had, he'd have to go over union law in order to provide him information on an employee as he valued other's privacy as much as his own. Blanc had tried every which way he could in order to gain information on you, your where abouts only for Harlan to leave him completely dry where he tried to dig. The next step was merely to start chipping away at the families narrative; one. by. one. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up around noon. Ransom's arm wrapped around your figure and you were absolutely content. His body radiated heat and made your body slick next to him, his light snores being the lullaby for your slumber. You traced his hand with the tip of your fingernails, drawing small patterns into the tops of his hand, waiting for him to wake up as you sat encased in his frame. Safety was a was to describe it, knowing this fortress of a man had your absolute well being in mind you could easily say this was the best sleep you had ever gotten. You turned over so you were now facing him, tracing his beautiful features with your nails, watching him stir in his sleep as you wiggled closer to him. You leaned over and rubbed the tip of his nose with yours only to be met with a large hand placed on the back of your head and pulling you into a kiss. "Good morning." you mumble as he releases his grip on you.

"How are you feeling?" Ransom asks, his hand extending to rest on your face. You'd essentially spent the last week in bed, and the shower, oh and the kitchen counter. You'd gain your color back, you no longer looked as fragile as you did when you first came to Ransom's lake house, you looked comfortable. Truly in every way. You no longer flinched when the door bell rang, you weren't nearly as modest as you were in the beginning.

"I feel good today, maybe we could do something instead of laying in bed all day?Maybe put on some clothes?" you suggest taking the covers off of you and heading to the shower. "why?" Ransom extends his hands out and arms wide as he stretched off the morning stiffness "If it were a perfect world I'd keep you naked." Ransom responds as he looks at his phone, unlocking it as soon as he hears the water running in the bathroom. 32 text messages, 16 missed calls and 12 emails. Half of them from his mother, God was he not looking forward to listening to those voicemails. Two from Harlan explaining the situation with the detective. And another explaining two cops showing up to do a supposed wellness check on you and coming up empty when you weren't at the house. Ransom rolled his eyes. He didn't want to have to take you back to the house so soon, you'd just gotten comfortable. And then the other half of the voicemails were his father on an all out tirade. If Richard knew what was good for him, he'd keep his mouth shut.

Rubbing his palms together, he got up and slipped on a pair of boxer briefs, before heading down stairs and putting on a pot of coffee. Just as he was about to sit down on the couch there was an abrupt knock on the door, making him immedietly jump up and put on a robe he had laid on the back of a loveseat. Opening the door he wasn't really sure what he was expecting but it sure as shit wasn't Marta. Jesus, what did she want? Her eyes were wide, she was shaking with her hands in her coat pockets. Something was up. "What is it?" Ransom asked, doing nothing to hide his annoyance, his tone dripping with grimace. "The police are at the house.. they'requestioningeverybodyand-" her voice shaken, she was speaking so fast that Ransom had to take a minute to register what she had said before he grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her inside with an aggressive tug. Had she spilled the beans? Did she give away your location? Trying to keep his composure and not ring out Marta's neck he pushed her against the wall, holding her there. "And did you tell them anything?" his words coming out slowly, calculating, almost maniacal. 

"Nonononono!" Marta explained, her hands out in front of her, scared he might strike her. "I saw the police cars and immedietly came here, but I don't know, I don't know who they've talked to yet!" she explains very quickly and Ransom releases her shirt, and she exhales. "I couldn't talk to them, you know I can't talk to them!" Marta continues to explain as Ransom turns his attention to the floor, thinking about his next move. He'd done every thing he could to protect you from this whole ordeal, shutting you away, hiding you from the world. The most interaction you'd had with the outside world was submitting your assignments online for school, past that you had your phone sure, but no one had your number, you weren't on any type of social media and Ransom took his personal phone calls in a separate room. But now with the police involved he'd have to device another plan to keep the water out of this sinking ship. 

"What are you thinking? Where's Y/N?" Marta asked, your safety being her number one priority, her anxiety levels spiked. "She's upstairs, she's fine." Ransom answered as he ran his fingers through his hair, before turning towards Marta again. "Did anyone see you?" he asked, taking the liberty of sticking his fingers in her coat pocket and grabbing her phone. "Were you followed?" he asks again as he turns off her phone. He wasn't taking any chances of the police showing up on his doorstep and having her literally spill everything and her guts to them. "No, no I turned off the road, drove around for a while before coming here." Smart girl. He hands her, her phone back and continues to pace the house. 

Marta wasn't the only problem however, sure Harlan could keep a secret but the family itself was like a table with uneven legs, you kick one and the whole thing tumbles over. He wondered how much of the family had already painted him in an unsavory light. The black sheep, of course he'd take the blame for this. But what was really the crime? You were a grown consenting women, he was a grown consenting man, if anything he could paint this as a picture of two lovers merely going on a vacation, trying to escape from the city. Yeah, that's what it was when we got down to brass taxes. A master manipulator Ransom could always turn this back around on your mother for wasting the police and detectives time. "What are you thinking?" Marta interrupted his train of thought. He sighed, he had hoped it wouldn't come to this, him having to pull you back into the fray. 

"I gotta take her back home." Ransom finally huffed, before going upstairs. He found you getting dressed in one of the outfits he bought you, a simple band t-shirt and some jeans. "Hey.." he says gently as he opens the door. How was he going to approach this? The inevitable breaking of your heart was only going to hurt more the longer he stalled it. As you sat on the bed, he kneeled in front of you, his hands placed on your knees. "Listen..." he starts "We have to go back home." you looked him in the eyes, your head tilted in curiosity. That was a given of course, no way you could just up and quit your job, leave Harlan to his own devices and just live shacked up with Ransom, sure it sounded lovely but you'd made a commitment to Harlan, however there was the tone in Ransom's voice, his gestures that had you on your toes. "The police are at the house, they're asking everyone a few questions.." he explains and your hands break out into a sweat. "Ransom..." you start. "I'll be with you through out the whole thing." He reassures. "They're not going to stop until they get their answers Y/N. And apparently neither is your mother." He couldn't be anything but honest with you. Rubbing the sides of your legs, feeling you tremble he wish he could take your anxiousness away. Carry it with him instead. "I know." you finally exhale. 

Having watched you from the hallway, Marta cracked the bedroom door open a bit before finally calling out your name. "Y/N?" she asks and your head shot up to meet her massive hazel eyes. "Marta!" you shout, arms open as you two embrace. "I'm so sorry." you apologize for pulling her into your mess that had snowballed from a spill to a special edition of hoarders. 

"I haven't told anyone anything, I promise!" she tells you as she holds you close. "But you need to come home, a cop and a trooper showed up and they're picking off family members one by one." you had felt your pulse pick up a heavy bass and began beating against your chest like it was going to start a riot inside you. 

Ransom quickly got dressed, Marta and you waited for him downstairs. She held your hand in hers despite you completely sweating through your palms, hands twitching, you couldn't stop fidgeting. It felt like you were going to war, and you attempted to put together a narrative in your head that was so air tight that they wouldn't question it. You really hadn't done anything wrong, but why did you feel so incredibly guilty? Was it because you knew the person who had set the series of events wanted your absolute demise? Was it because you had known what your mother was capable of? Your fear was getting the best of you and just as you were about to go back to crawling back into your hole, Ransom made his way downstairs. 

"Are you ready?"


	12. Sad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My arms hurt from the stretches I made in this chapter, but in all honesty I have no idea what I'm doing, and I know I want to actually finish this series.

The slurry of emotions you were feeling was overwhelming. Everything was too much, you've heard of sensory overload but this was on another level. Piling into Marta's four door, you'd gotten a slight stench of stale potato chips from the bags left on the floor, and small traces of vomit. Just how much was this girl regurgitating? Ransom's cologne, once smelling so sweet and comforting seemed to woft over you and make your nose run. The car ride over gave you what felt like severe motion sickness, and you were slowly losing your color as you saw the tip of the mansion's peaked house spring forth over the sea of trees. You couldn't sit still, fidgetting, picking at your nails, running your fingers through your hair. 

Ransom watched you in the rear view mirror, something was up. You were moving as if a bug had found it's way into your clothing. Anxiety was an under statement. Just what did your mother do to you? 

As he got out the front seat, he opened your door and opened his hand to you in order to help you out. You still felt woozy, staggering as you took his hand and he pulled you out of the car, and into his chest for an embrace before the Thrombey's seemed to slowly flood in on each side. Linda, and Richard taking different sides of their son and flooding him with questions. "Where were you? Why didn't you take my calls? What are you doing?!" that was the big one. Ignoring them and somewhat shielding you from their intrusive and prodding questions as he walked you through the front door of the country house, Marta being occupied by Meg who was hitting her juul and leaning against Marta's car as the two conversed. "I need the restroom . . . " you announced breaking free of Ransom's grip on your shoulder and running down the hall to the guest room, barely making it to the toilet as you immedietly vomited. 

You'd had anxiety before but it felt like you had swallowed bees. The energy you had was off the charts, hands shaking and shoulder's twitching as your hands held the side of the toilet seat, and there you go again. Bile working it's way up your esophagus and you ran your hands through your hair. Maybe you'd picked up Marta's urge to purge, questioning your reality was tossing your stomach in a way it really . . . hadn't before. 

You rinsed your mouth, gargled a little scope and washed your hands before finally making your way out the door, meeting Harlan in the hallway. He gave you a look over before an incredibly concerned look on his face crawled up and took over his aged features before he finally settled on a soft smile. "I'm so sorry we couldn't keep the wolves at bay my dear. . . " his tone empathic, caring and warm. You smiled at him, nodding your head to signal you had acknowledged what he'd said. "But I promise, you won't have to face them alone." he reassured you as the two of you walked down the hall, Ransom meeting you halfway, his hands on the temples of his head and a wrinkle working it's way between his brows. "Let's just get this over with, can't be worse than being pelted with stupid questions from my parents." Linda had obviously worked him over. "So what's the story?" Harlan asked, attempting to be more subtle at pulling answers from his grandson. "Lover's retreat. ." Ransom announced. "I took my girlfriend out for a weekend and it turned into a lover's get-away." you and Harlan looked at each other, Harlan smiling from ear to ear, side eyeing you. "So it seems. . .", Harlan than turns to regard you, hands on your shoulders. "I would keep your history with your mother's . . .issues" he speaks as if the word tastes sour on his tongue. "light hearted, she's merely overprotective, overly concerned-""Borderline psychotic.." Ransom adds, crossing his arms over his torso and you emit a small chuckle. 

Walter peaked his head in the hallway, "Y/N? They're eh' they're ready for you?" he announces, he woddles a bit, leaning on his good leg and hanging onto his cane. Ransom quickly grasps your shoulders and gives you a quick peck on the forehead; a notion that makes Walt squint his eyes and furrow his brows, not really sure what he's seeing. Ransom wasn't above loving you in public, out loud. Harlan shoots Walt a look, not wanting him to start an argument, or even talk at that point. ' don't ruin it. ' he thought. "I'll be here when you're done, I promise." you nod your head, silently holding your breath to fight another wave of severe nausea. 

As you walked off into the living room to be questioned, you were met with three men, one with big eyes, he looked sort of . . . well dopey. He was doe eyed, filled with wonder, he seemed to look at every nook and cranny of the house with absolute glee openly making comments and references to Harlan's books; another literature nerd, he introduced himself as Trooper Wagner. The other was a tall, thin mustachoed man wearing a suit and tie, he spoke in a deeper voice, and gave you a firm handshake, his name was Lieutenant Elliot. The other, an older gentleman, well into his mid-aged with striking blue eyes, dressed in a suit with suspenders. He'd never introduced himself, but you nodded at him in acknowledgement and was met with a smile. You sat in a chair occupying the middle of the room as the interviewed commenced.

Your knees couldn't help but shake as your closed your hands clasped together in front of them, your nervousness didn't go unnoticed, and Elliot reached for his pocket for a cellphone, showing you the screen to show he was recording and repeating his introduction; "I'm Lieutenant Elliot, here with Trooper Wagner, interviewing Y/N L/N regarding the missing person's case in respect to the ladder's well being." "Is all this necessary?" you asked, nearly interrupting his introduction to the investigation. "I mean, I'm an adult, I'm all well besides a slightly upset stomach." you attempt to keep your attitude light hearted, and comedic. Elliot nods, before flipping open a small notebook he kept in his breast pocket. "Well, when your mother calls three different places of employment in three different counties we can't help but take notice. . ." Elliot informs you. Blanc sitting in the back corner of the room plink's the piano key, striking the 'F' key which draws everyone's attention to him, alas he says nothing, his legs crossed very casual. "Ye-yes, well that's my mother for you. She can get a little crazy when she can't get a hold of me." you attempt to keep your voice solid, loud as to not make yourself sound intimidated by the sheer nature of talking about her, it was as if you were terrified your abuser would suddenly manifest in the room. "Do you have a strong relationship with your mother?" Elliot pries a little further, "Not like we used to. . ." well done, truthful but bleak. Again the older man plucks another key on the piano and you decided you'd speak up. "I'm sorry, sir? Who are you, I never caught your name." you ask, leaning forward to inclining him to answer you. He shifts in his seat, removing his hands from his face and smiling. "I'm detective Benoit Blanc, here on the behalf of your mother Bre L/N" you flinched hearing your mother's first name. 

"I'm only here to make sure you are in good hands, and with good company." He had a thick southern Louisianan accent, heavy and dense like molasses. Warm, comforting and good to keep. Your feet continued to bounce as he made his way closer toward you. "Well as you can see, I am with great company." you explained gesturing to the room around you. It was true, you were better of than you had been in years, the room you had, the income you were receiving and for the first time in your 20-something years you had actual insurance provided by an employer. "Yes, yes indeed." he rubs his hand over his mouth before he speaks again. "what I'm wondering is why it took so long to get there, you see according to your mother you seem to pack everything up and leave within the spans of 6 to 18 months at each place of employment. Now why is that?" he asks, taking a seat next to Elliot and sitting with his legs spread one arm rested on his leg the other hitched on his knee to hold up his head. Maybe it was a gesture to show you had his full attention but you found it dreadfully intimidating. 

"I . . . don't like staying in one spot for too long." you attempt to explain yourself. "I see. . ." he responds. You felt a growing burning in your chest, and your heart a flutter as he commenced. The heart, it was burning. No romance involved, this heart burn was radiating your kneecaps. "You seem to make impulsive choices, now why haven't you phoned your mother to let her know that you were well? Could've saved ya' the circus you have here now." Your pain kicked into full gear and you nearly upchucked. "I don't like bothering her busy schedule." Lies, lies your mother had no life outside of making your either miserable or revolve around hers. Blanc opened his mouth to ask you another question when a gargle that sounded like a low growl erupted from your stomach and you were quickly on your feet. "I'm so sorry excuse me. . ." "We're not done here-op there she goes." Elliot narrated your exit as you were quickly out the room, down the hall, brushed past Marta and Fran and into the hall bathroom promptly vomiting into the bathtub unable to make it to the bathroom. What was up with you? Maybe a bug was going around, maybe the stress had really cause you to unravel. 

Soft taps come from the bathroom door and Fran of all people creeps her head in, sitting on the side of the tub and rubbing your back as you vomit again. "There, there." she comforts, now holding your hair. "You shouldn't be in here. . ." you comment "I'm sorry you have to see this." you apologize as you upchuck again in a violent heave. "Oh please, I work with Marta, you should've seen her last fourth of July! We played a mafia game, needless to say she lost." you smile, making a mental note to ask Marta to tell you the story once your head was out of the tub. "But why are you sick? Food poisoning? A bug? Or God forbid you bit the big one." you pause for a moment, both hands on the side of the porcelain tub and wiping your mouth of tears and vomit look at her with a hitched brow and head cocked to the side. "Pregnancy?" she laughed at your obliviousness and your eyes grow wide.


	13. Mirrored hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprises!

It'd been two full weeks after the cops had questioned every family member individually. Fran and Marta would openly roll their eyes and peep at each other hearing Joni and Richard go at the differing perspectives. By now it had come out that you and Ransom were an item, though you insisted on keeping your job with Harlan's loving having your own space and Ransom was over just about every day. Though the investigation had wrapped up with the police it was often you'd catch Benoit Blanc lurking about, often sharing a conversation with Marta or Harlan. He'd seemingly become fascinated with your mother's what he'd call it ' over abundance of motherly love. ' and seeing as she paid him, you could understand his need to get to the bottom of things but by God the stress was on another level. 

It'd also been two full weeks of hiding your impending nausea, sore nipples, food aversion and now your intense lethargy. Currently you were in a pharmacy right outside of town, stuck staring at the plethora of pink and blue boxes that held differing pregnancy tests. What would this mean? WHAT WOULD THIS MEAN? If it was negative you could obviously go about your business, set up a doctor's appointment to see what the hell this plague was that seemed to wreck your entire nervous system. But what if it wasn't? What if you were expecting the first and only child of Hugh Ransom Drysdale? The first and only son of Linda Thrombey? She hadn't taken too kindly to your appearance on Ransom's arm, Richard further twisting the knife in her, his back handed compliments never lost on you. Your hair had dead ends, your shoes were last season, you were still in school figuring out life. Ransom took absolute elation in tearing into his father whenever these attacks came and you couldn't help but feel absolutely protected when it came to verbal spars. Harlan seemed to be absolute enamored with the pairing. Catching Ransom bringing you food, helping you with your homework, doing S O M E T H I N G for someone else without expecting anything in return. He was elated, hearing you two bicker about differing subjects, laughing loud at old movies, sharing interesting . . . and sometimes stupid conversations with each other. He'd happily given the pair his blessing, treading softly as to not to rock the boat or get too involved with you two, but had more on one occasion minced words with his daughter and son-in-law on how to treat you. "Ma'am, do you need help?" a small girl wearing a red apron and glasses rimmed with a cheep plastic and gold frame asked you, her hands in her pocket and her legs turned inward. 

"Ma'am?!" she repeated, louder this time as to rip you from the silent narrative that was taking place in your head. "Yes! uhm . . ." you reached out and grabbed the box right in front of you, Clearblue. A 20 dollar test, with 99% accuracy, and held it up to show her. "How accurate . . . is the 99%?" you asked, and she gives you a questioning look, her brows turned downward and her head pulled to the side. "Ya' know what I mean? Like what are the stats? Like did they impregnate something like 100,000 women and then had them try it out to see? Or did they do like section testing on rats? Cause I had a friend that faked a drug test using a pet rat, and then come to find out it came out positive for rabie-" "Ma'am!" the girl breaks your stream of audible consciousness to see you were actually spiraling. "I just. . " you sighed, suspecting this poor girl wasn't being paid enough to hear the ramblings of an oncoming manic episode. "I just want to make sure I'm getting an accurate reading ya'know?" you try to calm yourself down. "Well, she leans to the side retrieving another blue box and placing it in your other hand. "This one comes with two, and I have a coupon so you get it for the same price as one, I'm thinking statistically if they both come out positive. . . OR NEGATIVE, you should count that as an accurate reading." her words sort of subdued the oncoming panic and you nodded. She rang you up, including a slurpy and a bag of chips as well as a few magazines. "Could you please. . . put the test at the bottom of the bag?" you ask, in a hushed tone, the cashier nodded, even placing it between one of the pages of your magazines before putting them flat on the bottom of the bag. 

Driving home your heart pounded, and you seemed to check out completely as you drove through traffic, you weren't even sure if the light you just took was green because the idea that you were coming into the house with a pregnancy test was sending you into an anxious state. You crept through the front door easy enough, slurpy and paper bag in hand and slowly made your way up the stairs. Finding it easier to be forthright in your steps as they creaked relentlessly no matter what, you quickly tipped toed to your room, and closed your door with a sigh. "Why d'ya look like you just completed a mission?" And there was Ransom laying on your bed, swiping away on his phone completely casual. The bubbling feeling of anxiety came up again and all the color left your face. "Ransom . . . " you whispered, placing your bag on your desk and digging out the bag of chips from it and slinging it onto his chest. Trying to act casual wasn't your forte, but you were going to trudge forward if it killed you. You grabbed your paper bag, placed it on your bathroom counter, hoping he'd brush it off as feminine products, and sat on the bed so your back was to him, and he leans over, resting on one of his elbows. "You're looking a little peaked, you ok sweetness?" he asks placing a hand on your forehead. You felt warm to the touch and he suddenly showed a face of concern. "Do you got what Meg was had? She came down with a bug a few days ago, you might've caught it." he leans over and pushes himself on the side of the bed, standing in front of you and taking your face in his hands. "You're really warm.." he comments, dropping to his knees and undoing your shoelaces of your boots. "To bed, and I'll run out and get you some chicken soup." you physically gag, and Ransom staggers back. "N-no. . . not that." you cover your mouth. He places your feet in the bed and orders you to lie down. "Pho then. Maybe some ginger ale too?" you nod into your pillow. He gives you a thumbs up before making his exit, you however don't move until you hear his heavy heels make the stairway creak and moan as he leaves. Peaking outside the window to make sure his car is off the lot, you immedietly run to the bathroom, digging quickly through the brown paper bag and finding your test and why do they package these things so tight? 

You go savage on the box, not reading the instructions, placing the two tests on the counter top before fumbling with your jeans and underwear, kicking them to the side and you sat on the toilet. Peeing on a stick should be an Olympic sport, the way you struggled with it, only trying to use the required amount of urine so you could finish both tests, you paced your bathroom waiting for the results in your underwear. You hadn't even flushed the toilet yet as you eagerly or rather frantically awaited for the little grey hour glass to stop flickering on the test. Holding them both up, you shook slightly as you brought the results up to your view. 

Two positive pregnancy tests. 

Tears hit your fingers, one after another. You let out an open mouth sob, an overwhelming fear that there was something growing inside you. Almost paralyzing. It was going to continue to grow? And then once it's out of you, keep growing? A little you? A little you and Ransom?! Wait, no, no, why was this happening? Your thoughts raced and you kept thinking of different scenarios where this could work out. You could acquire a hasty abortion, you could pack your stuff and leave again, you could act like this wasn't happening and wear bigger pants. The spinning wheel of possibilities was going off in your head and ready to fly off the fucking hinges

"Ok, ok, ok, you're ok. . ." you attempt to calm yourself down, and upon hearing a small knock on your door nearly dropped the tests when you jumped. "Shit! SHIT SHIT!" you yelp stumbling out of your room, test in hand before hiding them in your pillow case "Y/N? Are you alright? I heard you haven't been feeling well!" Marta's voice comes from the other side of the door. "Marta! I'm changing right now!" you explain hoping about your room and digging through your drawers as she opened the door a creak to find you in your under things. "Oh! Sorry! Just thought I'd bring you a sleeve of saltines!" she holds up the plastic packaging . "Helps whenever I puke." she comments, "Thank you Marta. . ." you sigh sadly as she is placing them on the bed and quickly going out the door as to give you some privacy as you redress in pajamas. "You feeling alright?" she asks from the other side of the door as you literally hop into a pair of lose sweats and open the door for her, keeping her in the hallway as means to keep this short. "Yeah, just, I think I caught a bug I'd invite you in but I don't want you catching it." you inform her, hiding the truth was the best option. You didn't want to have her hide anything again. Especially regarding this. "Of course!" she explains eyes wide and she steps on her toes. "Just, I'm here if you need anything. Harlan knows what's up, you've been put on bed rest, house orders!" she jokes and you smile. "I'm going to lay down for a bit, uhm" "No, of course! Be seeing you!" and she leaves with a wave. 

You huff on your bed, your thoughts and heart racing. You brushed your arm over your eyes and held your breath hoping to wake from this nightmare.

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Traffic was a bitch. Bobbing and weaving in between cars packed together, Ransom kept a second eye on his passenger seat, take out Pho', next to it a case of ginger ale. He was trying to get to you as fast as possible so's not to have to reheat the food. Pulling up to the entrance of the house, the thicket of the trees made poor camouflage to a Mercedes peaking it's hood out from the trees. No doubt Blanc staking out on your mother's bidding, as Ransom removed the take out from the passenger seat, he made somewhat direct eye contact with the detective, not too sure as Blanc had been hiding behind dark Cutler & Gross sunglasses. Rolling his shoulders back and cracking his neck on both sides, he turned on his heel, food in hand and marched right up to the parked vehicle. "Hey, CSI KFC could you maybe fuck off?" Ransom asserts, casually swinging his free hand planting it on the car door to take up space. "I am working on the behest of my employer-""Yeah? Well your employer's full of shit." Ransom immedietly backfired. Blanc looked at Ransom, lowering his sunglasses and perching a brow in curiosity. "Maybe do your homework on who you're working for. And don't park this outdated piece of shit on my property again." he smacks the hood of the car before ending the conversation with his exit.  
Blanc's brows turned downward in clear irritation. He'd been staking out the house for sometime now, with Harlan allowing him to do so, only by means of calming the waters. You'd nothing to hide. From what he had seen you were an average twenty-something studying hard, working hard. He found your friendship with Marta absolutely endearing and couldn't help but shift the uncomfortable feeling Ransom had placed in him, the anxiety that maybe Blanc was working on the wrong side. . . 

Ransom entered the house, the front door closing behind him and he quickly ran up the flight of stairs to get to your room, the wooden boards squeaking behind him, under the heavy thuds of his feet. He opened your door slowly, finding it completely dark as the day became dusk and you lying comfortably on your side snoozing away. He entered the room, placing the soup on your desk and turning on your desk lamp. You stirred rolling over just a bit on your pillow as he began to undo the plastic wrap of the bag. He heard the small crack of something plastic and looking down at his foot to see if he God forbid stepped on anything. You'd been known to trip on your charger multiple times, it wouldn't be an exact surprise if he didn't end up crushing the damn thing under his boot. Hearing the slight click of plastic cracking, he turned to find you sleeping on your side facing the wall, a white object that looked to be the end of a nail file or tongue presser peaking out the edge of your pillow caught his attention against your dark bedspread.

He leaned over, encroaching on you. Placing his hand over your ear and giving one loud snap of his thumb and middle finger to see if you stirred, he was met with soft sighs and even a slight hum of you snoring before he pressed his free hand into the pillow next to you and slowly pulled out the object. A pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test. 

For around five seconds, Ransom felt breathless. Sure he had managed to avoid unwanted pregnancy for the better part of his life. One slip up causing a quick trip to the clinic made the casual fling into a ghost. Ransom never . . . built relationships with other people. Yes he had his friends, his family but how deep could you go when conversations were as shallow as a shower? And almost always came to a head when it came to discussions bleed into things more serious than a book cover? A new car? A and God he hated this, 'family holiday'. The connections were dead, what could grow there? He looked down at the piece of plastic in his hands, reading the positive sign again before watching your sleeping form stir again. 

You came in and every day since, it was a physical shift. When you're gone Ransom could feel his blood rushing through the chambers of his heart, knocking on the walls, running through his veins demanding to know where you were. He knew he didn't want to be without you, and couldn't recall another time he'd spent this long with someone, hell if he'd ever been this long with anyone. Now there was something bigger than you, bigger than him. Putting another person before himself, could he do it? He thought for a second, lost in his head thinking of how and when he would if not now, and if not with you than who? 

Opening the drawer of your desk he slipped the test inside, he quickly took the takeout down stairs into the kitchen to be reheated. He crossed his arms right after he placed the porcelain bowl in the microwave, leaning against the counter his thoughts continued to seem to collide into one another.

It felt like his whole life he'd been asleep, just coasting by and now he woke up and you were here. Ransom had for the longest time, the H A R D E S T time identifying what he felt for you. What constitutes and emotion so vapid, so wild that it seemed to endear you to him in such a way he couldn't see his life without you. He looked at the relationship his parents had, his uncle and his wife had and the satanic spawn they reproduced that was Jacob. Watching Linda and Richard it seemed to be more of a game of cat and mouse. His mother seemed to be keeping more of a pet than a husband, a glamorized over groomed poodle that had it's bark and it's bite surgically removed. He would physically cringe watching his mother attempt to curl up to his father and his father half willingly indulge in her mediocre affection that was a facade for love. Hearing the beep of the microwave he removed the bowl of soup, closing the plastic door with a clank before heading backstairs finding you barely waking up. 

"Morning." he greeted you, handing you the bowl as you curled up sitting cross legged, hair now frizzy and rubbing your eyelids with the back of your hands. "Evening. . ." you responded looking out your window and seeing it was now dark. "Careful, it's hot." Ransom cautioned as you took your utensils and stirred the broth before taking a sip and immedietly puckering your lips feeling the burning sensation blister your upper pallet before making a face. Ransom let out a soft chuckle watching you blow on the spoonful of broth and slurping. "No, once you get past the third degree burns, it's not so bad." you joked before breaking the wooden chopsticks and working on the noodles. Ransom eyed you, watching you slurp the noodles loudly, doing so with such vigor that you were splashed with broth as a noodle disappeared into your mouth. The soft lighting of your room giving you a soft glow. Ransom thought of all the scenarios this could go wrong, you could easily pack your bags, up and leave. You'd done it before, hell you probably had a whole routine down with a moving company on stand by at all times. He didn't want that. He didn't want you to pack and leave if it came down to your mother further encroaching on you to the point you felt like you'd need to disappear again. Especially now. A kid? HIS KID. Jesus. Ransom was going to be a father? Have a family with you? A fear crept in him that if he didn't speak out, he'd wake up tomorrow morning and you'd be gone. It may have been impulsive, it may have been on a whim, but before he could realize he was saying them the words spilled out; "Marry me." you paused, hesitant, not sure you really heard it. Ransom moved from sitting on the bed to the floor on his knees with his torso and arms resting on the bed. You stopped eating and looked at him. "What?" a look of confusion and for a second longer to register that he was being completely serious. "Marry me." he repeats. You'd been for lack of a better word seeing each other for less than a year, he hadn't been one to mince words, or be verbally affectionate but it seemed like now there was a shift in gears. A brick on the gas going 80 and climbing. "It hasn't been long enough. . ." "I don't care." he retorts, his hands now grabbing at your feet. "I love you, you belong to me." you inhaled and moving your foot out of his grip, you slid off the bed, you took the bowl and set it on your desk.

You huffed out a sigh so large your body physically shook. Placing your hands on your hips and then running a free hand through your hair "you don't know what you're asking." you stated. Ransom removed himself from the floor and pressed his hand on the lower of your back only for you to recoil from him. "Yes, I do." he attempts to reassure you. "No, Ransom, you can't just ask me to marry you, we haven't been together for long-" "Stop it ok, I know what I'm doing." his fuse was running short. "You think I'm going to leave you, I'm not." "DON'T!" you stopped him, Ransom turns towards you knowing he's hit a sore spot. "Don't let that be a reason for you doing this. Don't pity me." you squirm under his gaze. "I can't think of anything or anyone else I'd want to do this with, than with you. . ."he confesses and you froze. It clicked, he knew, how did he know? Had he gone in your bathroom? Tears gleaming in your eyes you throw your hands down imitating a child having a tantrum. "Ransom. . . I'm.""I know." you couldn't get it out and he's upon you, hands open to grab your face and bring you into a heated kiss. "I know. . ." he repeats pressing his forehead against your, feeling his face become wet with tears. "Marry me." he repeats in a low whisper. "You'll want for nothing, we can get away from here. . ." he whispers sweet nothing as you continue to cry literally in his hands. "You're safe with me, I'm gonna take care of you now" you sobbed holding his hands in yours.

"You wanna marry me?" you ask through soft sobs. "Yes, do it." he smiles at the end of his sentence. "Say yes." he nods as if you'd mime his body language. "Say yes I'll marry you." he repeats again kissing your face through soft hiccups and low sobs. "ok." you sniffle a bit and Ransom opens his eyes, still holding your face but looking you directly in the eye, "ok, I'll marry you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. . . I can't? Write??? Idk, let me know what you think.


	14. Chapter 14

Ransom watched you idly was you hung laundry in the backyard of the Thrombey's country house. You made due with your work, flicking the white bed sheets with your wrists allowing them to be caught in the wind before draping them over the clothesline. Harlan sat behind him at his desk thumbing envelopes and writing quick notes on his pocket notebook. "I'm going to marry her." Ransom announced, his arms crossed over the other. Harlan, never one to quickly react to delicate news, turns slowly to regard his grandson. " Yes, I'm sure that'll go over well with your mother." his tone dripping in sarcasm. "Harlan, we're getting married." Ransom turns to look at his elder meeting his aged eyebrows raised in a surprise manner. Harlan realized that Ransom was absolutely serious. "She's having my child." Ransom informs him, before sitting on the edge of Harlan's desk. " Ransom, that's no excuse for mar-""I love her." Now there was the big one. There was the big word. 

The family had liked to announce and rain gifts of words of affirmation on one another, and would never necessarily turn on each other but you couldn't qualify the emotion they felt for one another as love. Ransom, never said that word, never USED that word because he felt the weight it would carry. The girls in middle school, high school, college that would profess their love for Hugh Ransom Drysdale would always be met with a shrug, a cringe, or silence. He would never confess to it because he never felt it, recognized it. The feeling of wanting to be everything to someone knowing you may not get it in return. The feeling of staying alive for another person; improving, moving different, looking different, acting different because you didn't know who you were before them. "You're absolutely serious? We're going to have not only a wedding, but a little one running around here again?" Harlan laughs at the end of his sentence, looking around the room as if already visualizing his great grandchild running around, tumbling over. God the baby proofing the house would become a full time job. Ransom moved across from Harlan taking the chair adjacent to him across the desk as if he were proposing a business deal. "If she has my name, she'll have our protection." he explains. 

Yes Ransom wanted to marry you for absolutely romantic and precious reasoning of wanting to be bonded to you, but there was always a legal matter. Harlan stood stoic allowing Ransom to further explain. "Her mother will no longer have legal access to her, spouses. . . don't they usually have control of medical and legal records of their significant other?" Ransom asks. "Marital power. . ." Harlan looks up as if he is trying to recall a memory. "The Marital power and guardianship of the husband is the right of the husband to rule over and defend the person of his wife. . but YOU as a husband provide for her decent, no GREAT living standards and comforts." Harlan understood now why Ransom was in a rush to explain his stance on this marriage. He wanted to permanently sever ties with your mother and ensure you were safe and settled throughout your pregnancy.  
"Ransom. . . you need to realize this isn't going to be a savory ordeal." Harlan states matter of fact, meeting his grandson's wide eyed and questioning expression. "Blanc, is still investigating the whole ordeal with Y/N and her mother, he says . . . she has these intervals of change in her mood, it's as if he doesn't know who he's talking to half the time. That drastic of a change could really. . we don't know if she's capable of violence or not someone that unstable." he tries to piece together his thoughts out loud. Oh, Ransom knew what your mother was capable of. He had slowly but surely gotten you to express yourself and even if it wasn't an all out confession, he could see the pain you carried. The trauma in your body whether you were aware or not. How you'd flinch at the slightest touch, how you'd still shy away from him, how you'd be washed with anxiety for at least a half an hour after an unfamiliar phone number popped up on your screen and good God, the people pleasing. You checked in on everyone more than you'd check in on yourself. Ransom had torn down what he thought was every wall you put up only to be met with boulders.

Ransom crossed his legs, stroking his chin with his thumb and pressing his index finger between his lips. "So . . . what do I do?" he asks. Harlan's face lit up in an expression Ransom had never seen before. His grandson, was asking him for advice. Genuine and authentically seeking his wisdom and not even for his benefit, for the safety of someone near and dear to him. The old monarch could die happy in this moment, however the pressing matters kept him tethered the realm of the living. 

"Elope." Harlan stated flatly in a hushed tone. "Don't plan this all in a rush, you go slow, leisurely. If you make any fast movements or big purchases that could be signaled as a red flag. You move quietly, and deliberately." Harlan's crime novel writing alter ego seemed to had taken over the older monarch's body as he further described the plan ."Tell no one where you're going, or that Y/N's expecting, don't post anything on social media, change phone numbers, get a plan under your name." Harlan pieces together his master plan for a great escape. " And for God's sake's make sure no one finds out about it until AFTER you're married and the ink is dried." knowing how rash his daughter Linda was about how Ransom was perceived by others or the family as a reflection of herself, he knew nothing good would come out of her knowing her only son was literally running away with the maid, she'd have a full on stroke. Richard, wouldn't make a move if he knew that the couple had Harlan's blessing, seeing as Richard had been nothing short of a pampered pet on the end of Linda's leash the chances of him acting out were slim to none; albeit you two were already married.

It wasn't just the precautionary measures just for the Thrombey's there was always the still looming threat of your narcissistic mother attempt to find your location and drag you back into a life of borderline enslavement and abuse. "What about Blanc?" Ransom asks, knowing the detective was a walking bloodhound nipping at your heels waiting for you to stumble, stutter or act even slightly out of social norms to blow the whistle. "Oh, Blanc, well he can't tail after you if that day he has a meeting with me." Harlan states proudly, now watching you through the windows of his office, letting out the slightest chuckle as you struggled getting a bed spread over the wiring of the clothes line. He recalled the day he had hired you, knowing he saw so much potential and room to grow, at the same time a shadow not yet embraced hidden behind the defense of knowledge, literature and productivity. Little did he know how much you'd change the entire household. "And Ransom. . ." Harlan turns to pull Ransom from his own thoughts, Harlan's aged subtle blue grey eyes meeting Ransom's piercing blues. "Don't fuck this up." 

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Finishing your morning chores, starting to deep clean the house after Meg came down with a bug you weren't taking any precautions. Holding Marta's hair while she puked was one thing, holding yours was another and holding Meg's. . . well you only had two hands. Removing your rubber gloves and sitting on the stairs and wiping your forehead sweat on the back of your hand you huffed out a sigh. Having more energy than usual, you were surprised by the genetic perk pregnancy had graced you with, you stood at attention hearing Harlan's office door open and the heavy footsteps of Ransom's boots hit the wooden floor and make their way to you. "Hey. . . " you speak quietly as his hand reaches down, grabbing yours and bringing your knuckles to his lips. "Why does it smell like you've been playing with condoms?" he asks, smirking with upturned brows as you yanked your hand away. "Because" you held up the rubber gloves. "Some of us were cleaning!" you teased, way to ruin a moment. "What'd you talk to Harlan about?" you ask starting up the stairs, Ransom following. "Us." he answers, hands in his jean pockets as you two make your way to your room with Ransom closing the door behind you. You toed off your shoes and Ransom sat on your bed, feet meeting the floor and him laying back, crossing one arm over his head. "I don't think anyone needs to know about us, outside of him." Ransom informs, you quickly nod in agreement, not being one to open up, let alone have actual friends you didn't know who you'd tell exactly. Ransom silently processed what Harlan had told him, pack up and dip, don't let anyone know about your child and to be quick about it. You began unbuckling the belt of your jeans, gathering your bath supplies getting ready for a quick shower, at this Ransom leans forward resting his elbows on his thighs and rubbing his hands together. "If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?" you pause, what a random question. "Oh? Is this what you talked to Harlan about? A trip for us?" you ask smiling. "Anywhere, anywhere you want. . " Ransom explains, standing, and beginning to take off his sweater, and follow you into the bathroom. "New Orleans. . ." you answer, giggling as he wraps his arms around you, helping you with your shirt off and kissing you directly behind your ear. His hands expertly working the button of your jeans and sliding down the zipper. " 'Orleans'" Ransom repeats in a Yat accent. You quickly reach over and turn on the shower. Ransom turns you so you're now facing him, enveloping you in his arms, his hands quickly undoing the back of your bra as he pulls you into a kiss. "We plan a trip...we pack our bags, tell no one." he tells you in between kisses. "you wear a white dress. . .I'll meet you at the altar with a tie. ." he quickly undresses almost falling over trying to take off his boots with his feet. An action that causes you to giggle, "and we'll get married." You smile, getting into the shower and he closed the curtain watching you stand underneath the shower head. 

Taking in his plan, you couldn't see any fault. You'd never dreamed of a large wedding, or wanted to be ogled at by anyone. Family invite? Hell, what family? Friends? Outside of Marta and Fran, virtually zero. Just you and Ransom, in truth that's all you needed. Your husband, the father of your child. "What're you thinking lil' one? I'm freezing here." Ransom joked as he stood outside of the hot water pouring on you. You smiled pulling him under the shower head with you. "I say yes!" you announced excitedly. "We're getting married!" you nearly shouted, as Ransom hushes you with a kiss. "Shhh! SHH we don't want the whole house knowing!" he laughs at the end of the sentence, holding you to him so you're both sitting under the hot water.

You giggle excitingly into the crook of his neck and he pulls you into an embrace, brushing his lips and chin over the temple of your head. Unconciously smiling. He recalled the first time he'd seen you. Shorts, a tank top a messy bun and all trying your hardest to shake your ass while stacking books on your shelves. He'd giggled but let you continue as you were putting together your room. The joy in simple pleasures, he couldn't help but be drawn to that. The selfless happiness that took place in the every day mundane wasn't something Ransom was familiar with or even recognized. He wanted to pocket it, keep it in the pocket of his Levi's like he did your underwear the first time he had you. His finger's wondered down lower, grabbing the globes of your ass, giving them a light squeeze and hearing you squeal softly in his ear. " I remember. ." he brings your chin up to face him and softly brushes his lips against yours. "The first time I had you." you pressed your upper lip between your teeth and that beautiful coral color rushed across your cheeks and nose. " You were so shy. . ." he presses his forehead against yours brushing his nose as he continued giving you soft pecks. 

He lifts your leg and leans you against the cool porcelain wall, looking down at you as grinds his growing erection against your stomach. "Still so responsive." you whimper as he lowers his digits to meet your now throbbing core, finding it wet and inviting. He steadies his stance, widening his legs insuring you wouldn't fall. Bringing his fingers to your view and spreading them to see your physical excitement web across his fingers. "Still, so, so sensitive." he teases before capturing your mouth, his tongue quickly darting into your mouth, sucking on yours, sharing your saliva. Lifting your other leg, pressing you further into the wall, he impales you on his throbbing dick and you shudder as your walls completely wrap around him, taking him to the hilt, the tip of him just barely kissing your cervix. "My wife. . ." he whispers and you giggle. Wrapping your legs around his massive torso, taking him further. "My husband." 

He leans back so you are somewhat resting on his pelvis as he begins to work you. Pressure builds, and you hang onto Ransom's shoulders for support as he picks up speed. Burning, tingling, you sigh as Ransom captures your mouth again, watching your expression change as you lose yourself in him. "God, I love that fucking face. . ." he comments meeting you in a quiet symphony of sighs. Your breasts bounce at his efforts, and he pulls you closer to him, feeling your nipples brush against his pectorals and you let out a low moan. Pregnancy had made you extra sensitive. "You like that?" he asks, continuing to pump into you with more vigor, your small moans and soft sighs his soundtrack of his actions, increasing his motivation to please you. He could feel your inner walls beginning to flutter around his shaft and he nearly rolls his eyes. "You do, you like it when you're wrapped around me. . ." he lets out a low grunt as you clamp around his cock at his praises. "Complete.. completely wrapped around me." You cling to him as Ransom now starts pistoning into you. You could feel him throbbing as his movements become more erratic, feeling every ridge, every vein engrave itself inside your velvet walls. You slowly go slack, mouth and teeth grazing Ransom's shoulder slick with water and sweat. You can taste the alcohol from his cologne, the sweat from his day. Hands gripping the skin that's growing ever slick. Tossing his head back, furthering his loss of himself inside you. 

The burning tingling sensation growing from your belly button all the way down your clit as the friction began to build as you bounced on his dick. Your grunts and low moans becoming more and more audible, as if Ransom were pulling them out of you as he quickened his actions even more. The wet slapping sounds coming from your actions was absolutely pornographic and you fought to keep your volume down. Suckling your neck, licking your earlobe Ransom further whispers filthy obscenities in your ear "So good, so good. . .you're such a good girl, how'd I get so lucky?" he groans feeling your pussy clamp and quiver at every praise, his name staining your lips as you bit the flesh of his shoulder and neck. "Such a good girl, there you go, there you go." he whispers feeling you contract as you get closer and closer to your peak. "Look at me." he commands, wanting a first row seat to your undoing. You lean against the cold shower wall, face completely flushed and baby hairs sticking to your forehead, hair and body completely wet and struggling to stay up as Ransom continues to fuck you. "Look. . . at . . .me." another command exasperated by his thrusts and upon feeling the delicious senation of the tip of his cock brushing against the surface of the bundle of nerves inside you, just . . . so, you surrender your fight with modesty and look directly into Ransom's baby blues. "I want you to cum, I need you to cum" he confesses. Further grinding his pelvis into you so it's making contact with your clit, ever so slightly. You grasp desperately at Ransom's face, holding it as the coil in your stomach snaps and your eyes go wide, a silent cry escaping your gaping maw. The sensation of your orgasm milking Ransom's dick in an almost vice like grip is almost too much for him, he stumbles as his release follows yours and places all of his and your weight against the wall to avoid falling backwards. Continuing thrusting through his own creciendo of an orgasm, he slams his arm against the porcelain wall. You feel the burn of the stretch of his member painting your inner walls with cum and another soft moan escapes you as you cling to your lover. 

Standing there holding you for a minute, Ransom releases his grip on you just enough to slide you to your own feet. He was fighting to catch his breath, laughing slightly as he finally caught it, meeting your smiling face he leans his forehead to touch yours. "Ok, time for a cold shower."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on the hold up, I've been having a harder time writing.

You'd been walking away your entire life. There was no direct line to your life. Absolutely none. When home life had submerged itself into chaos you always found a way to walk away from it. Whether it be physically or finding yourself with your nose stuck in a book. To find ways to loosen the pain, the hurt, the anger. What it was not to be seen because you were living to take care of someone else; to take care of your own mother because she was too preoccupied with her own life. You were always the doting daughter, at her mother's side. The "light of her life" she would often call you, the reason she lived. In public at least, as soon as the doors closed, the human suit was unzipped, and the mask slipped her true form came in and the abuse began. You would walk around your neighborhood, walk around the city. You never could see yourself getting anywhere, any destination or direction. Just a need to get away. 

And now here you were, walking down the isle of a small chapel in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Ransom Drysdale standing at the end of the isle. You couldn't see it, but his hands were fidgeting. The lump in his throat bobbing as he watched you slowly make your way down the pews that lined the room. Finally the day was here. He couldn't help but reach out and help you up the last step so you were standing across from him. Your eyes brimming with tears and you were quietly shunning yourself for messing up your makeup. As the flamboyant and all around loud priest anointed this "joining of souls." But to be honest he could've been making animal noises, as your eyes were joined in a locked moment with Ransoms, as he mouthed sweet nothings, his hands clasping yours shadowed by your small bouquet of dried flowers. 

"I see no reason why these two should not be wed." the preacher's words break through your shared daze.

"My sweet angel." Ransom whispers, making your lips quiver at the thought of the first moment you shared together, your white angel costume on the Halloween Holiday and an audible sob escapes your lips. 

"Love of my life." Ransom's forehead meets yours, as you attempt to hold some semblance of stoicism. 

Finishing the ceremony, Ransom, in his dubious and charismatic fashion sweeps you into a kiss.

As though he was thinking you'd suddenly dip out of the ceremony, or suddenly slip from his arms, Ransom was eager to get it done and over with, happily ready to consummate the wedding. The ink was dry, there were of course phone calls to be made, appointments to take care of, but it was official, you were all his. 

As soon as you had made your way to the hotel , from the moment you entered the elevator, Ransom had to have his hands on you. You flushed at the slow fluidity his fingers brushed against the back of your leg, your inner thigh. "You're all mine now." He whispered, leaning in as his lips brushed against your temple, lowering further so his teeth grazed your ear. His tone low, primal almost threatening and causing a shiver to creep its way up your spine and flood your cotton panties. The lift stopped at your floor, and Ransom's hands were on you the second the doors opened, scooping you up and straddling your legs around his waist, subtlety be damned as the gaping mouths of elder folks and fellow inn-stayers are a gasp at this open display of affection. "Excuse me I have to take my WIFE to bed." he announces, quickly his thunderous footstep walk to your shared room. 

Tossing you on the bed, making you squeal as his weight immedietly dropped on you, undoing his white button up he rested on his elbows placing himself directly between your legs, one protective hand on your stomach. "You're stuck with me now." he whispered, kissing your ever growing belly. "More like you're stuck with me." you corrected, your hands grazing over his forehead, finding its way in his hair. " You sure? " you ask, attempting and doing you dammest not to sound insecure, but you had to do your best to convince yourself that the last few moments actually happened. You looked down at your ring finger, sporting a fat diamond, donning a four prong golden band, met with another golden wedding band. But still it wasn't enough. Ransom expected as much, how couldn't you be convinced that someone was seeing you? Someone had wanted you to the point he wanted that shit written on a legal document. "I've never wanted anything more in my life, the way I've wanted you." he whispers. "And I plan on spending the rest of my life convincing you, sounds like the best job I've ever had. . . the only job I've had. But the one I want to retire doing." 

Your mouth found it's way into a pout with your eyes gleaming again with un-shed tears, as they pearled on the corners of your eyes they were met with Ransom's thumb. "Now no more tears, let's get a baby in you!" Ransom announced as he flipped you on your stomach. "Ransom! RANSOM I'M ALREADY PREGNANT!" you squealed, laughing as he undid the zipper of your white skater dress. "Let's give em' a sibling!"

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Two weeks after the wedding, Harlan had finally got the phone call he had been losing sleep over. Ransom confirmed the marriage, got it in writing, spoke to his lawyers and suggested Harlan do the same as you now shared a last name and now a family. Finally on Ransom's insurance plan, Harlan was adamant on getting you all checked up in every way possible. Nothing for the very best for his upcoming great-grandchild. Linda however, darling sweet Linda was completely in the dark, her son off the grid and for longer than usual. Not exactly panicked as remembering Ransom's libertine nature to go on all out binders, sleep in drug dens, socialite lofts, parties, clubs, she was sure he was bound to turn up sooner or later. It was in that second week she realized. . .you were also missing. 

Taking her finger and running it along the top of the fireplace, finding dust gathered at the tip, she finally felt the justified need to ask. "Where is Y/N?" she asked her father as he typed away at his laptop. "Oh, well uh .. " unable to lie to his daughter, Harlan gulped before taking a deep breath. "She's with Ransom." he spoke gently as if the tone were able to ease her mind. She had known full and well that you and Ransom were an item but for the most part she was hoping it would be a passing fling, another piece of arm candy to further upset his families ventures, and outings. Something to get the blood pressure raised, another log to stoke the fire of an argument or a fight. 

"Oh. . is she now? Does dating my son completely absolve her of her domestic and . . .employed duties?" she asks, teetering on a tone that was almost disrespectful and just a tad narcissistic. Harlan meeting her gaze, his hand finding his way on the arm of his chair. "Well yes. . " Harlan paused, waiting for his smug daughter to take a sip of her latte that she'd left without a coaster on his desk. "Now that they're married." and she choked, spit, walked away into a corner with her hand on her chest as she smoothed her shoulders over. "you said marred right? They're marred? Ransom let himself go, she gained weight? MARRED?!" she shouted, lifting her bottom row of teeth to show out from underneath her top lip; oh she was furious. "No, you heard right, Y/N L/N now Drysdale is M A R R I E D to Hugh Ransom Drysdale." Harlan spoke loud, clear, concise, his line of sight never breaking away from Linda's. Now with the protection of his name and his blessing, Harlan felt as though a weight had been lifted, no more secrets, no need to hide, and speak in secret anymore. 

"Are they. . .it's a joke right?! They went and did some fidelity ceremony with some witch doctor, some ayahuasca hippy dippy shit?! I mean, I grew up in the 60's I know-""They've eloped. The ink's dry, and she's expecting his child. Congrats Linda, you're going to be a grandmother." the last comment, Harlan couldn't help but snicker at the end of his sentence, watching Linda tremble, her shaky hands finding their way into her suit as she dug through her blazer to find her cigarette tin to quickly light up. "Richard!" she yelled, abruptly leaving the study to find her husband, tucked away in the living room. The butt from the cigarette illuminating Linda's hand gestures as she ushered him outside to both calm down and enjoy her vice. 

"What!? What is it Linda?! Jesus will you watch it with that thing?!" Richard flicked her hand away from him as he back walked all the way out to the back porch as she tried to compose a sentence together. 

"Ransom!! RANSOM! THAT CONNIVING LITTLE SHIT!" were the first words she could utter. "That boy is going to give me a coronary!" her sentences exaggerated with her movements. "Yes! Our son what about him!?" Richard looked at her face as if trying to piece together bits of the words that she was uttering. "He eloped! HE ELOPED WITH THE MAID!!" Finally, getting it all out, Richard's eyes wide in shock, his mouth a gaping maw and his fingers finding their way curled on the lapel of Linda's blazer. "HE DID WHAT?!" he shook his wife as he began questioning her. "ITS A FLUKE?! A JOKE?!" Richard went down the list of atrocities Ransom had put the family through. The time he rented out cony island on Linda's credit card cause he hated waiting in the lines, the time he bought an alpaca just for it's fur but left the damn thing inside Linda and Richards house, the time he flew to Paris for pastries, everything was impulsive and nothing had meaning, so this likely on Richard's list was one of them. A 'cry for help' as the family therapist would always call them. "NO, NO, NO!" Linda further explained. "Dad knows! He even signed off on the damn nuptials!" 

Richard was drawing conclusions in his mind as his wife spilled all the information she had just come into, as well and in Linda's nature to critique the current state of affairs Ransom had left them with and then finally the tipping point. "She's pregnant." Richard almost collapsed. Sharing their fortune with this . . . this nobody?! Not even bothering marrying into his own social class, not up, not at the same but so horrendously down the food chain?! New money?! She would bleed them of house and home , surely, obviously, in Richard's mind, money had to be involved. She was blackmailing him?! She seduced him with her feminine charms! Clearly that's what happened. 

"How did this even happen?!" Richard asks, finally grounding himself and bringing his mind back from the brink. "Apparently the little harlot eloped, must have a thing for privacy." Linda huffs, taking long drags of her cigarette and knocking her head back. "Clearly she must be hiding something. . " Richard began drawing strings. "With the police here and everything, something must be up." Having his fair share of secrets, Richard knew a thing or to about valuing privacy. "And so what if every one finds out?" an idea began to form in Richard's head. "What if . . . everyone knew, that Hugh Ransom Drysdale. . married a common nobody?" Linda looked at Richard as if he proposed a group suicide because in her eyes that's exactly what it was. Social suicide, Linda would sooner go out in last season's shoes. "Hear me out, she'll see what it's like to be Thrombey and realize she has no place in his life! And Ransom will slam divorce on the table, faster than he gave up piano lessons!" which for the record. . .was only a half hour into the first 1'500.00 lesson. 

"Yes! YES!" his wife eagerly agreed, as Richard was promptly googling local and national news outlets before stopping on a renowned network and clicking the tip line phone number.

"Yes? Hello! I'd send a tip in?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT SPELL CHECKED! Again, I'm sorry it took too long to write. I ALSO want to say thank you to everyone reading, I never thought I'd write something that got a lot of attention and this is one of my first series I started. So cheers. I hope you're all well.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting deep into the mental space of the reader, and Ransom lets his motives be known to the family.

The ride over to the airport was fine, in the wee hours of the morning, the newly weds sat bundled up in first class as hours passed effortlessly. You were woke with a forehead kiss and your name called, Ransom stroking your cheeks. "Wake up sweetheart. We're deboarding." he announces, folding the blanket that covered you and retrieving a bag from the overhead. As you walked off the plane, a slight chill crept up your spine and a small turning of the stomach; something wasn't right. The suspicion rose as you two walked down the tunnel leading to the front gate of the plane, and you wrapped your arm around Ransom's arm. 

Hearing a building roar of people talking as you entered the airport, the overwhelming sound of clicking and flashes of dazzling light caught you off guard and for a moment you aren't sure what's happening. Ransom throws his blanket draped arm over your figure, as a way to shield your eyes from the blinding light of flash photography. "Wait-what the fuck?!" Ransom shouts, fully unwrapping the blanket from his arm and throwing it over you. "Ransom! RANSOM! LETS SEE THE LUCKY LADY!" Taking a second to register what was happening; paparazzi. Anxiety slowly creeping until the gullet of your throat, you trembled slightly, and your hands began to sweat, mouth runs dry. Holding the blanket over your head so now looking down at your feet and the obnoxious color of the laminated airport floor as your guided through the crowd. One arm around you, the other out to shove the others out of the way. At one point a harsh shove fully pushing you into Ransom's chest, causing even him to stagger. "Get that camera out of my face!" Ransom roared "GET THAT CAMERA OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE!" yelling, more yelling and then finally loud smash before your gaze still on the floor meeting bits of black glass, broken plastic; a camera, a very expensive looking one too. Followed by tiny pin drops amount of red. "My NOSE! YOU BROKE MY NOSE YOU SOCIALITE PRICK!!" . Now realizing that the small puddles of dark red on the floor; was blood. Acid in your stomach made it's way up your gullet and your lips tremble as you try to suppress your gag reflex. "Ransom, Ransom I don't like this." you confessed. 

Ransom's temper was peaking, his nostrils flaring. His blood pumping like locomotive, thundering through his veins and his temperature rose. He made heavy strides to the exit, almost dragging you in order to keep up with his fast pace. Not above strong arming the crowd that flanked his sides as he urgently made his way; deciding to abandon your luggage and head straight to the parking lot and into a luxury Lyft. Fury, he almost seemed to rip the door off the car, quickly placing you, more like shoving your into the vehicle, before settling in himself inside and yelling "FUCKING MOVE!" at which the driver immedietly took off. Digging through his pocket for his cellphone, finally composing himself enough to look at it. 12 text messages and 22 missed calls. Having used a private terminal, set up a car right out of the airport, everything was pretty much air tight. So what happened? 

Scrolling through the contents, finding a few texts from his actual family, Ransom was taken back by the amount of "Congratulations!" with the tacky sparkle emoji next to it, flowers, and then three from Harlan. Actually making the effort to open the conversation, Ransom clicked on the inbox; 

'Ransom answer your God damn phone!'

'Ransom, everyone knows!' 

Confused, and silently praying to whatever divinity held the golden scales of fate that Harlan wasn't referring to. . . what in Ransom's gut he K N E W he was referring to. He wasn't going to tell you unless he absolutely needed to. He watched you, in his peripherals, your body twitching, your small chubby hands running over your face and through your hair; an anxious action you often did when you were stressed out. Finally seeing your arms fall around your barely there bump. Going back to his phone screen, Ransom read the dreaded words he was hoping so desperately were a hallucination from sleep deprivation and loss of bodily fluids.

'It looks like your mother went to everyone except The Onion!' 

The silence was deafening, you hadn't said a word and Ransom could feel you slowly start to disassociate as you looked out the window. You could feel the anxiety begin to seep out your pores. It was all too much, the way your seat-belt restricted you, the fibrous feeling of the fleece blanket that was over your head now becoming suffocating, everything became overwhelming that you mentally checked out of your body, lost in the daze looking out the window of the car, staring endlessly into the abyss of darkness illuminated by the lights of traffic. An emotion Ransom was unfamiliar with, crept up inside him behind his eyes and in the his chest; Guilt. He handling of you was rather of abrasive and even aggressive, but instincts took over and seeing that greasy neck beard attempting to sneak a cellphone under the blanket was too much to handle, and he felt the immediate need to retaliate with sheer anger. He'd promptly shoved the photographers camera back into his face Probably to subdue your growing dread and to pacify himself as well, Ransom reached an arm out behind your seat, his gentle touches stroking behind your ear. An action that almost caused you to jolt and pull you back to your body. You turn to look at him, as he scoots to the middle seat, his arm reaching behind your back and lowering so it can tuck you closer to him. "Are you okay?" he asks, brushing his lips over his temple, allowing himself to rest there with your head pressed against his lips as you try to gather yourself. "I'm sorry, for being so brutal. . ." he mumbles into your hair. "I wasn't . . I don't know how that happened."

His hand strumming your hip, his torso turning towards you so you had his full attention and could rest your head on his shoulder. "What just happened?" you ask, looking at him as he too struggles to find words to break it gently that your private life, was not only no longer private but was the subject of three Daily Mail articles and the current trending topic on Twitter. 

"My dearest mother. . ." he starts, removing one hand from your stomach, pressing lightly down on the beds of your fingernails. He wasn't quiet sure when he started the habit, he just remembered reading an article on the importance of pressure points in the hand, and now it became a built in habit. "Ran to every news station she could find, to tell them about our nuptials." he looked at your face at that last bit. "So much for 'never going against family'" Ransom's mouth formed a straight line. 

You couldn't hear him explain as their was a dreaded ringing in your ears the moment he had explained that every cover you had ever created in order to keep yourself off the grid, had been obliterated in the striking of a few keys. Your hands wrapped around your tummy as a wave of nausea hit you again. 

Taking your quivering chin in his hand, Ransom pulled your face towards his, making sure you were looking into those piercing baby blues; "Hey. . this changes nothing. Everything is alright. . you are safe." that last bit, he spoke with emphases, trying to reassure you with his words before pressing a kiss to your lips.

How badly you wanted to believe him. Your stomach doing flips the entire car ride as your brain rode off into the worst case scenario. You could feel the cold on your feet, the bubbling, gurgle of your tummy. And sure you had, had deep intimate talks with Ransom. Allowing him to delve deep into your past as you got wine drunk, and the conversation flowed into "deep" territory. The parts the hurt, the parts that kept you up at night. These are the sessions that would go two ways, tears or laughter. They were the most intimate and honest Ransom had ever been with anyone.

And Ransom hurt looking at you, seeing you mentally abuse yourself for the things you went through. You held a black cloud over your head not only from where you came from, but the mistakes of your past that you had not healed from. The boys, the girls the friends. The acting out and walking around with the mental anguish of so desperately needing to be seen; needing your mother to be there but she couldn’t because you were too busy being there for her. You had to work the make the conscious effort of being present in your choices because seeing your mother’s life turn out how it did... being unconscious of your choices, wasn’t an option you could make. Your privacy was precious and here it was being ripped from you in the few strokes of a keypad. 

Ransom was the most impulsive choice you had ever made. As if pulling you out from your safe spot, you had worked day and night to build, tirelessly. To protect yourself and others. Truly you were exhausted and now here you were, tired and at your tipping point. 

He held your hand in an attempt to keep you focused on him, before moving it to your belly. “We’ll go home, cuddle up under the duvet.” He flirted. "It's alright, everything will be alright."

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To say you were anxious was an understatement. You'd gone so well into hiding that you'd be sitting across the room from your husband, but visibly miles away. Your nerves were clicking in your head, a constant ticking sound that clouded your mind, your thoughts. How long would it before they came and got you? Found you again? Whoever "they" were, "they" were the enemy. The open world was like a black hole you had to maneuver your way around or you'd slip in and be gone, gone, nothing. And God you hated how your mind worked. It had gotten to a point where you weren't leaving your bedroom, and then finally your bed. Ransom often pleading with you to eat, helping you shower, and even combing your hair. His parents selfish sabotage had set back his hard work by months as you sat paralyzed by fear.

The two of you hadn't been to the house in weeks, Linda, and Richard constantly blowing up Ransom's phone to the point he'd blocked their cellular and then soon their emails. Harlan attempted correspondence, sending care packages, food from the top rated restaurants, literature, old movies and going as far as offering security measures. However Ransoms anger couldn't help but bleed into his attitude toward Harlan. When he said tell no one until the ink is dry, he meant literally when the ink is dry, hoping to avoid any suspicion and the family's backlash. However in telling Linda, he had done the exact opposite. Finally having enough of the separation from Ransom and you, Harlan offered to host a peace offering dinner. Invite the whole family so all cards could be laid out on the table and he could set his barrings. 

The car ride there was quiet, Ransom having one hand on the wheel, the other switching between the stick gear and your returning to your hand. "I don't want to do this." you confessed, pulling up the drive way lined with trees. "Every time. . every time I get together with your family, things. . . I make it worse." Ransom gripped your hand at that. "You're a Thrombey now sweetheart, you're going to have to get used to it." you knew in your heart he didn't mean to come off that insensitive, but you jerked your hand at that reaction, returning it to your side, returning your gaze out the window as you pulled up to the drive way. 

Seeing Linda's car, Ransom nearly jumped out of his car seat, quickly undoing his seat belt and slamming his car door with a loud bang. One eyebrow hitched you tilted to head to see why he was nearly jogging toward the vehicle, keys in hand, before looking around quickly and then dragging what looked to be his knuckles on the side of the car, oh so casually, leaving a long, bright white line along the paint job of the car door, before returning his keys to the camel coat pocket. He returned to your side of the car door, only to pull the door handle and found that you had locked it. "Open the door angel." he asked, his attention turned towards the house. You, however had crawled to his driver seat and promptly locked that door too. "C'mon, don't make me go in and get you." he mumbled under his breath as he did a jog over to the drivers side, leaning in and knocking on the window.

After this whole ordeal, you were definitely sitting in on a therapy session or twelve. Opening the car door with his key, Ransom leaned in, reached out his arms to grab you, as you fought his grasp. "No, NO, NO! DON'T MAKE ME GO IN THERE!" you fought, as he placed you over his shoulder, closed the car door and locked it. Walking a few feet before deciding to not look like an absolute caveman, he placed you on your feet in front of him. Your face flushed, hair sticking out of your bun, brows turned down; obviously very displeased. "I hate you so much right now. . " you whispered, at which he smiled, sticking his fingers in your hair to fix the stragglers. "I know sweetheart." he placed a kiss on the crown of your head. "You know I would never let anything happen to you?" he asked, your fingers finding their way around the collar of his coat as he spoke. A meek "yes" left your lips. Ransom's hands lower to find your hand, as he lead you to the front porch. "Just stand by my side. . you don't have to talk if you don't want to, just stick by me." 

The screen door creaked as it opened, his loud footsteps thundering to announce his arrival. The room admittedly sounded like a flock of chickens had seen a fox in the hen house. All bocking about, loud, rambunctious, Jodi arguing about how stress can affect a pregnant woman, Meg arguing that it's not their place to talk, Walt arguing that Ransom should have been sterilized at birth, Richard arguing with Walt about his son Jacob's current twitter feed about the families argument and Linda pleading with her father to explain why he signed off in this 'sham' of a marriage. And Martha and Fran tucked away in the corner, Martha's big beautiful eyes darting back and forth as she followed the narrative. 

Spotting a large recliner in the other corner of the room, Ransom need no introduction as he took a seat there, you sitting on the arm. No, that simply wouldn't do. Wrapping his large hands around your waist, he gingerly placed you in his lap. A gesture Linda recoiled at, and Meg rolled her eyes. "So. . .the whole gang's here." your cheeks flushed as you watched as every Thrombey promptly shut their gaping maw, almost as though to ready another argument at Ransom. "Well? Go on, I'm waiting to see what all the fuss is about, hey Franny? Can you get my WIFE some sparkling water? And I'd love some cookies and milk." Fran rolled her eyes, placing her tray from the serving position, down by her arms before exiting the room. "Ransom, still an asshole I see." Meg commented. "Meg, still sticking your nose in everybody's business I see." Ransom quickly retaliated. 

"How did this happen?! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!" Linda asked, both arms out, shaking them to exaggerate her point. "I was a good mother, I did everything I could, I gave you everything, and you run off. . with. . with, with the help?!" Ransom smirked, and perked his head to the side. "and, AND she's pregnant! Honestly Ransom, do you know how Plan B even works?!" Richard added in tale. "HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!" he repeats Linda's question. Ransom, licking his lips, placing his hand at the place your legs meet, your eyes nearly bulge as he brings you closer to his groin, now apparently at half mass. "Well if you want a demonstration-" his other hand toying with the zipper of your dress, and you look back at him. "alright, ALRIGHT STOP IT OK!" Jodi intervenes, holding her hand up in protest, her face contorted in disgust, and in unison, the family groans.

"What I think we. . are all wondering here is. . how did this happen so fast? Ransom, we all thought naturally. ." Walter stumbled with his words trying to find an eloquent way of explaining "We always thought you'd marry some Vanderpump? Or at least into some new money??" the words spilling out, clunky and all offending. Ransom's nostrils flare and he smiles again; "So like Jodi?" and again, the uproar begins. You can see the glee in Harlan's eye as he attempts to repress a chuckle.

It was like verbal Jenga, remove one block and the tower falls. The sparing of words had Jodi in Ransom's face and you curling back further into his lap, your head resting under his chin, your legs resting on his other leg, wrapped underneath his arms. "So much for caring about a pregnant woman's stress levels." Ransom argued back. 

"Can you just tell me why?!" Linda intervened, Ransom looked over at his mother, sticking his tongue in his cheek, looking over at Harlan who sat quietly in his chair. "Because I love her." met with a sea of groans and eye rolls, at which you further retreated into his grasp. "She's never wanted, needed or asked me for anything. . in a sea of women hungry for money, power or a name, and she wanted none of it." he spoke further. "In fact, she's done her hardest fighting to avoid THIS scenario, that she had put herself in only because she loves me too." Ransom's thumb, circling your lower back as he spoke. 

"And now, yes, she IS pregnant with MY child, and if any one wants to mince words about that, you can. Doesn't change the fact we are expecting." He shifted in his seat, now standing, placing you in the chair as he marched over to his parents, leaning in on the two of them "I will say this though, if you jeopardize their safety I will not hesitate to take the whole sacred Thrombey name, and skullfucking it to death." a chill ran down Richards spine. Turning to address the family, making sure he made eye contact with every, single one of them as he spoke. "You all have secrets, you all have something you want to hide-" Walt intervened. "Oh PLEASE Ransom, it's not like you're exactly a star child either!" shaking his cane at him. "Oh, golly gee you're right Walt!" Ransom's sarcasm wasn't lost on him. "But here's the thing, I don't care." 

As another slew of insults Harlan decided that he'd had enough and made his way to you, placing a palm on your shoulder. "My study?" he asks, leading the way, leaving Ransom and the family to verbally brawl. Sitting across from him as you did so many time before. Harlan took a good look at you. The wear and tear on your face was visible. Heavy bags under your eyes, chapped pale lips, and eyes totally unfocused, had you even been eating? "How are you my heart?" he asked, a soft knock at the door before Fran's voice made its way from the other side. Allowing her to interrupt to drop off your seltzer, Harlan requested a meal for you, at which she gleefully agreed before disappearing again. . . had she even given Ransom his milk and cookies? 

"Are you sleeping at all?" Harlan asks, his tone heavy with worry. " I can't sleep. . my thoughts. . they eat me alive." you confessed, leaning back in your chair, arms sprawled out on the sides of the chair. A pained expression spread across Harlan's face, and a hard sigh escaped him. "I'm sorry." his tone absolutely pungent with remorse. "I felt that, if Linda knew from me it'd be easier. . but it seems I've only stoked the flames." 

"I don't sleep. ." you spoke quietly, a hand on your growing baby bump. "Because I wake up every morning thinking this will end in flames." Your tone set a frequency that shattered Harlan's heart and he couldn't resist reaching out a stretched hand in an effort to comfort you. "Why. . . did he pick me? Why did you hire me?" you asked, nearly in tears, wondering how the gears were set in motion. "Chaos seems to follow me, you knew that but still kept me." Harlan smiled "Do you regret any of it?" now there was a question. Were you truly sad because of the outcome of your employment? Or were you devastated for not only failing to run away from your chaos, but also managed to drag the only family you knew into it. 

"I love Ransom." you confessed. " I think I knew it right away. . that it was him. He caught my heart in his hands, loved me despite my past and was the first person to see me for who I am and love me for it." you were near in tears. "But I regret dragging him into my fucked up reality and am not sure I'm worth all the trouble." Harlan waved a hand at you, laughing. "My dear. . . this family has gotten into bigger fights over the most microscopic frets. It was only a matter of time before you got initiated into the Thrombey verbal boxing ring." you smiled at that.

A loud banging from the shared wall of the living room disrupted the conversation, you and Harlan shared a look before quickly removing yourselves from your chairs and pacing your way back to the living room. Finding Walt hanging onto the side of the couch, his cane on the opposite side of the room, Richard recoiled, his arms above his head as though he were taking shelter. "How about that asshole?!" Walt yelled, his stature diminished by his lack of support. Richard shouting some colorful words back. Jodi and Linda yelling at each other to the point a vein had become incredibly prominent in Jodi's forehead, meanwhile Meg was at it with Jacob over his last TIKTOK, something about the pigeons being replaced by drones. And Ransom, sitting where he once sat eating cookies with his feet kicked up, and laughing at the sheer chaos that was taking place around him. 

Harlan elbowed your side. "So you see? He's in his element. . " he confirmed, and for the first time in a long time you laughed.


	17. Chapter 17

Benoit Blanc considered himself a man of great patience, understanding and compassionate. However given his current client was literally eating through his entire schedule, blowing up his phone and making it downright anxiety inducing to even come into his office for fear she sat on the other side of the frosted glass door, he quads slowly becoming a rope being burned at both ends. 

He confided in Harlan that he was once so sure he could follow his gut instinct when it came to reading other people however when it came to reading your mother, he once was brought to tears at the stories of how she’d given up life and limb, how she’d die for her daughter who had carelessly abandoned her to her own devices, how her old age was catching up to her, how her daughter was a maniacal evil little thing but she was willing to forgive her misgivings because she l o v e d you. He was now second guessing everything. 

Upon Harlan secretly corresponding with the detectives and even going as far as offering the detective personal letters received from her, Blanc felt like an absolute fool.

That morning when he came into work he felt a sigh of relief and an ease that had escaped him from many, many nights. Ransom was right, he was absolutely right, and had in fact pointed him to the right direction despite what other family members had argued against the 30 something socialite prick was actually. . . Trying to good. To be good. 

When he pulled the copper handle of his office door, when it swung open he was immediately stopped when his tracks when sitting across in his lushed antique chair was your mother. She sat, a rolled up newspaper in the crux of her arm and a smug look on her face.

Well hello Miss, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.” He attempted to regain his composure. 

“ My daughter is shacked up with a Thrombey.. and you kept it from me?! “ her voice loud, cracking in between words and ever piercing, making Blanc flinch slightly. 

She rose from the seat making the wooden legs scratch the floor with a loud squeak. “ what exactly am I paying you for Mr. Blanc? It’s been over two weeks and I’m still no closer to holding my daughter in my arms!” She dramatically threw the news papers on the desk, causing the printed paper to scatter. 

Blanc’s nostrils flared, he placed his satchel down before she got the chance to sit down again. He tried his hardest to hide his detestable tone he carried for the woman in front of him

“Ma’am you haven’t even met my hourly, and you’re telling me how to do my job finding your daughter and presenting er’ to you like a sacrificial lamb. I afraid you don’t need a detective, you my dear need a psychiatrist!” 

She recoiled, stepping back so far she nearly fell over. Embarrassment burned her cheeks and she licked her lips in a nervous way. Blanc retreated, stepping back halfway through the door leading to the lobby. “I hope you’re not offended by this, but I hope you aren’t here when I come back.. I’ll wave my fee.. use the money to get some help with whatever this affliction is that ails you...” his tone sincere but cold. 

As if the trigger of her sanity had been ripped off the hinges of her mind. The woman tried to stop her hands from trembling. Never been told no, never being denied anything in her entire life this was a new feeling that she absolutely dreaded. She seethed, her body shook violently. How did it all go so wrong? She was so close, so very close that the end result nearly kissed the tips of her fingers. Upon finding out her daughter was now a Thrombey the fire in her reignited violently. She scrambled over the office looking over the contents of the desk, quietly digging through the files of his cabinet before her gaze fell upon his abandoned satchel. 

Eyes dashing from the door to the leather bag, she quickly dug through the contents finding a small black address book. Jack pot.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

" What about a movie? " you ask, Ransom running his hands through your hair, your head in his lap. The two of you had seemingly been locked away from the world the last few weeks. Anxiety slowly subsiding, but you still had your moments where you still thought the sky was going to fall. The soft sound of rain hitting the window and the heater on full blast, if you could bottle this kind of comfort and sell it, you'd be a millionaire. 

"I'd rather stay in tonight." he spoke, burning through the remote as he changed the channels. "We could rent something?" he asked looking down at you, "order some take out?" you scrunched your nose, no. This kind of weather was good with comfort food. Sitting up, Ransom let you sit next to him , your fingers twiddling on your lips. "What about grilled cheese with tomato soup?" you ask. Ransom quirked his head to the side, he couldn't remember the last time he had a classic grilled cheese on a rainy day. Before he could answer you stood up and were on your way to the kitchen raiding the fridge, for once pretty please you had found everything you needed. Prior to moving in with Ransom; it was pretty empty in there. Besides and array of fruit juices, coconut water and a few uppity IPA's the fridge was almost bare. Now a weekly trip to grocery store became one of your favorite things to do. 

Ransom turned the corner, watched for a quick minute. His cute pregnant wife beginning to prep the tomatoes and onion on a cutting board before looking over at him. "Wanna help?" you ask him, holding the handle of the knife out to him. "Pretty sure you'll end up with the tip of my finger in that soup." he responds, making you pout. Unable to say no to you, he sighs before taking the knife in hand and watching you slice the tomatoes into smaller pieces. "Make your hand like a claw, with the tips pulled in." you show him, holding a tomato with the tips of your fingers pulled in to avoid cutting them. "You hold the knife and then you just. . ." you demonstrated as you quickly minced the tomatoes. Ransom was impressed at the quickness of it, his brows raised and a little taken back. "Where'd ya' learn that?" he asks, carefully attempting to mimic the action he just saw. "Art school first semester. Stayed with some of the culinary students." you answer as you work an onion. 

"You sure I won't jinx it helping you?" he asks, still working on the same tomato. "It's very hard to mess up a grilled cheese." you respond preheating a pot on the stove. "And you're doing very well!" you looked over his shoulder. His pieces of tomato were cut evenly, maybe a tad smashed into the the cutting board because of how tight he held it, but even and thorough none the less. It was the first real praise Ransom had gotten in a long time, a sort of burning sensation started in his stomach and he didn't realize it but he was smiling. 

Placing butter in the pot, you heard a fabulous hissing sound as the cream hit the pot. "It's ready!" you announce, scraping the cutting board of onion into the pot to cook, Ransom repeated the action with the cutting board of tomatoes. "Oh, excellent!" you applauded. 

By the time you were done making the sandwiches the house smelled like it belonged in a Campbell's commercial ; butter, cheese and tomatoes. Placing two sandwiches in front of Ransom, before plating the soup, he watched you borderline beaming. "Down the middle or across?" you asked, holding the butter knife. "What am I a psycho? Across please." He couldn't help but drool hearing the hardy crunch of the bred as you sliced it for him. He took your plates to the living room, setting them on the coffee table, you followed with the drinks, climbing over the couch and crawling to Ransom's side as he placed an arm out for you. 

You could hear his chewing, a hand came out from around you and tousled your hair. "This is really good. Thank you."

Admittedly this was the most domesticated thing you had ever done in your entire life. It was warm, comforting. It felt like getting into a warm bath. You couldn't help but snuggle closer into Ransom's grasp after he placed his empty plate down. "Are you happy?" he asks, looking over you. "Very. . . but . ." you couldn't help yourself. It seemed to always be looming over you. A dark cloud that refused to fully dissipate and leave your sky cloudy. "I. . I'm terrified of it." an admission that made Ransom place his hands on your knees, turning his body fully towards you to give him your full attention. "Why?" his voice soft, and sincere. "Every time I think I'm going to stay happy. ." you explain, your hands return to your ever growing bump. "I ruin it by thinking it’ll go away.." Ransom removed your left hand from underneath your shirt, holding up your wedding band in full view; evidence of his love and the very legal binding and solid vows you made to each other. "I can't guarantee a permanent state of bliss. But I can promise you wont face whatever the future holds alone." 

It was understandable given the way things had played out, Ransom would be more concerned if you were numb. Taking Harlan's advice and allowing you to patiently explain yourself, your feelings, your state of mind was the only way he was going to be able to build any sort of firm foundation again with you and your baby. He kissed your open palm. You could never understand how people could misinterpret Ransom as all those cruel things they had called him before. Sure he could be malevolent, and down right violent but what would you expect from someone with the upbringing he had? Sure he had grown in a solid gold cage, but a cage was still a cage. Placing both plates onto the coffee table, Ransom pulled you into his massive lap, letting your knees straddle his torso. His hands on your back, you could feel the hot tips of his fingers lift the back of your shirt before finally dipping into your jeans and grab the globes of your ass. You yipped a bit at his boldness, always taking you by surprise and exciting you.

You leaned in, his lips brushing your nose. "Sweetheart. . . I've always told you, you don't have to face anything alone anymore?" his hot breath hitting your upper lip as you smiled. Your lips brushing against his, and you can feel his growing erection strain against his jeans, pressing against your inner thigh. He pecks your face with soft kisses, little laps of your lobe. "What can I do? What can I do to make you feel safe?" his voice barely a whisper, and emitting into a low groan as he presses you further into his lap feeling the heat radiating off you. A soft coral worked across your face as you blush. Removing his hands from your pants, he lifts his hands to your covered breasts giving them a gentle squeeze as your arms rested on his broad shoulders. You mewed as he continued toying with your breasts that’d grown heavy and sensitive with pregnancy. "You make me feel safe. . ." you confirmed as his lips found yours, the soft lapping of his tongue asking for entrance which you permitted, lips continue to brush against each other, soft bites, sucking of the lower lips and a warm familiar sensation growing in your loins before breaking away in a gasp. " you make me feel safe." your voice now breathy, shakey, trembling with want for him. "Yeah. . " Ransom's hands find the ends of your shirt, fingers sliding up your abdomen, and pauses there briefly before finding their way toward cups of your bra, giving them a slight push up with the warm palms of his hands. "And what else?" he asks, his mouth finding it's way to your neck.

“Hot..” it was the first word that came to you as you literally began physically sweating. Nearly overstimulated at his touch alone, it was crazy what pregnancy had done to your hormones. The sensitivity at the tips of your nipples, your lips, your neck and tongue. Down to your belly button and your throbbing clit. Ransom smirked. His little wife was a buzzing bundle of nerves and already flushed and flustered from his meager actions. Working the buttons of your pants and lowering the zipper, his other hand lifting your shirt and placing his open mouth on your breast. Your hands wrapped around his head in a way to applaud his actions and as he finished working your zipper a dark red mark rose on your flesh. “What else? How do I make you feel when I touch you... “ his hand opening your jeans and his index feeling stroking your clothed mound “here?” Not really needing a response as he found your dampened your underwear had gotten in a mere few seconds, he worked his fingers further stroking the bundle of nerves that laid between your lips. 

You steadied yourself by holding his shoulders as the familiar and welcomed tingling sensation built from your clit and worked its way up your belly button. “ How does it feel sweetheart? “ his voice strained, his other hand fully emerged in the back of your pants, a firm grip on your ass, nearly tearing the soft cotton fabric as his eagerness was getting the better of him.

“ Good..” your voice breathy, shaking with anticipation. You began tugging at his shoulders, you wanted him. You lost yourself in a fit of giggles as Ransom tossed you on the couch. Quickly removing your jeans and placing himself between your legs. You squealed when his lips found the crook of your neck, wrapping your arms around his head, hands finding the collar of his shirt helping him remove it.

You hear the clanking of the metal of his belt as he removes his pants, your nether regions borderline aching with want as his thumbs find his way to the laced edges of your cotton panties, slowly slipping them off. 

He runs a hand over your bump, the warmth of his hands welcoming, causing you to relax under his touch and emit a sigh. 

You feel the tip of his member bump against your inner thigh and further spread your legs allowing him more access, moaning like a wanton as the head brushes against your clit. Ransom lowers his head to catch your lips band without a word sheaths himself completely inside you causing your inner walls to nearly into a spasm in an attempt to accommodate him.

Ransom’s low grunts rattle in your ear as he begins to work you. “ My sweet little wife...” you pulsed around his member at the sweet praises he sang in your ear. “ going to fill you up so good, going to keep you like this always.. “ you arched your back in his grasp as you continued to climb to your peak.

Ransom could feel you nearing your climax as he continued to pump, at the sight of you breathing heavy, disheveled, and coming closer and closer to your undoing he continued pummeling you. “Such a good girl. . .such..a ..good...girl..” his sentences exaggerated by his thrusts. He removes himself from the crook of your neck to look at you. Taking absolute glee at watching you fall apart in his hands. 

“Ra.. Ransom, I’m not going to last...” almost sounding like a plea, he continues his fast pace. 

“Good. .” His voice comes out more like a growl, a moan dying in his throat, feeling your innards attempt to milk him as his thrusts become more erratic. A hand lowering to the epitome of your thighs, finding your swollen clit and pressing firmly on it, you begin to convulse as your orgasm catches you off guard. Arching your back, a moan that ends in a shout as Ransom holds you into place, continuing to piston into you, chasing his high. “Good...GoHaaDD.” His orgasm eclipses yours and ends with a shudder as he collapses on top of you. 

“How. . . How did I get so lucky?” He asks.. resting on his elbows and kissing your temple.


End file.
